


Static (In The Silence Of Unspoken Words)

by schneestern



Category: Bandom
Genre: Community: bandombigbang, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, Sibling Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-06-18
Updated: 2009-06-18
Packaged: 2018-03-05 08:33:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 23,755
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3113150
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/schneestern/pseuds/schneestern
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Pete is a lot more perceptive than people give him credit for. At first when he starts noticing things about Mikey and Gerard, he thinks he's crazy. Soon he starts to lose sight of what's really there and what's just his imagination, getting more and more obsessed with the Ways. But when he catches Mikey and Gerard together one night at a venue, things start spinning out of control and Pete is faced with a whole new problem. Now that his suspicions are confirmed, what will he do?</p><p>(This takes place during a fictional tour.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Static (In The Silence Of Unspoken Words)

Pete's a lot more perceptive than people give him credit for. Sure, most of the time he's too wrapped up in himself to see anything that's not inside his head. And the rest of the time he spends draped all over people, trying to make the most out of the moments when his thoughts don't feel like they're going to eat him alive any second. But he sees things, he wouldn't be a good songwriter if he didn't.

Mostly it's the fucked up stuff he notices, the shit people hide just below the surface in plain sight. Hoping no one will catch them. Maybe it's because Pete has up close personal experience with that kind of stuff, but that doesn't really change the facts.

*

  
Gerard and Pete have a thing, barely, just once.

It's before Mikey. Before, well, before a lot of things. Gerard's still on his way down to rock bottom and Pete doesn't feel much of anything either.

They're drinking together, vodka straight up, with the purpose of drowning out everything, their thoughts, their responsibilities. Pete experiences the evening only in fragments. The feel of the ratty couch as his fingers go numb around it. The way Gerard smells, hair sticking wetly to his forehead as he sways forward, lips crashing against Pete's. He wraps around Gerard's body and thinks _warm_ just before he fumbles open Gerard's zipper. He hears the sounds Gerard makes at the back of his throat, like he's expecting Pete to save them both.

But Pete doesn't. Can't.

The next morning Pete wakes up naked, under a blanket that smells like dead cat, with Gerard Way draped heavily over his chest.

They never speak about it afterward, especially not when Gerard gets sober and after Pete and the thing at the Best Buy parking lot. They talk in passing at award shows and random concerts, occasionally, but always about music and never about Mikey.

It gets less awkward with time.

*

  
Pete sits in the car with the radio going, barely aware of where he is. The Best Buy, he's at the Best Buy. Maybe. It doesn't matter. He's still holding the steering wheel, even though he turned the motor off a while ago. He's staring at the empty, black parking lot that seems to be growing, expanding around him like a hole, a hole in his chest. And still the thoughts are racing through his mind, they don't slow down with every pill he takes, although they should. It's a simple equation really.

Later he can never really explain why, only says he did it for the quiet, thoughts so overwhelming he had trouble hearing anything else.

The second time he does it for completely different reasons.

*

  
The thing with Mikey just happens. Pete feels like he blinked one day and there was Mikey – tall, confident, beautiful Mikey Way. It's probably the closest Pete has ever come to _this is it_ , which is why the end is inevitable. Patrick would call this twisted Wentzian logic. Pete thinks it doesn't make it any less true.

When Pete kisses Mikey for the last time, they both know it. Pete makes him promise to text every day and Mikey does. Sometimes Pete gets this weak feeling in his stomach and can't answer back for a week, but Mikey never seems to mind.

Eventually, Pete gets over it, bottles the feeling, throws himself into writing music and playing with his band.

He's mostly okay until he starts noticing things.

*

  
Pete runs into Gerard behind the tour bus, shoulders hunched in on himself to give the least possible resistance to the wind. It's the second day of the tour and Pete hesitates a moment, wondering whether he should disturb Gerard or not. They _are_ talking to each other, but it's been a while since they've been alone like this.

"Hey," Pete finally says, stepping up next to Gerard. "Can I bum a smoke from you?" He hasn't smoked in years, but watching Gerard do it makes him crave one too.

Gerard looks up at him, hair hanging in his face, and for a moment Pete's sure he'll walk away. Then a small smile tugs at the corners of Gerard's lips and he hands Pete a cigarette and a lighter.

"Thanks," Pete says to fill the silence as he flicks it open, trying to keep the flame going long enough to light the cigarette. The wind keeps blowing it out.

"Here, let me," and Gerard leans in close and cups his hands around Pete's to ward off the wind. The light flickers but stays and when Pete leans forward to light the cigarette in his mouth, Gerard's thumb brushes his bottom lip.

It shouldn't feel the way it does and Pete leans back, away.

"Thanks," he says again and inhales deeply, smoke filling his lungs.

They stand next to each other, shoulders touching lightly until they've both finished smoking. They don't say anything else the whole time.

*

  
Pete texts Mikey about it later, sitting on the steps of his bus, even though he can see Mikey across the parking lot. He's standing under a tree, talking to Frankie about -- something. Or maybe it's only Frank who's talking, Mikey simply choosing to indulge him. Sometimes it's hard to tell.

Pete writes _mooched a cig off gee_ and hits send.

He watches as Mikey feels for his Sidekick in the back pocket of his jeans, reads the text and looks up to find Pete's eyes. He smiles.

A moment later Pete gets a text back.

_he tld me lst night_

Pete stares at the text and wonders why he thinks it means something. Then Joe practically falls all over him trying to get off the bus and Pete's too busy punching back to think more about it.

*

  
The MCR bus smells like his own when Pete climbs inside; a mixture of unwashed boys, old candy and dirty socks. He's actually looking for Bob but finds Mikey and Gerard instead.

They're sitting on the couch, Gerard flipping through TV channels, Mikey curled up against his side. His head is in Gerard's lap and he looks like he's asleep, eyes closed, chest rising and falling evenly. One of Mikey's hands is tucked in under Gerard's thigh, the other one's hanging over the edge of the couch. Gerard has his legs stretched out in front of him easily, the hand that's not holding the remote is stroking the back of Mikey's neck in a way that looks warm and familiar.

Pete takes one look at them and feels like he just walked in on something completely different. Something he has no right to see. Something he doesn't really understand. He has to fight the urge to turn around and walk right back out.

"Hey, Pete," Mikey says, blinking sleepily. It makes Pete flinch, like Mikey caught him doing something he shouldn't.

"Don't be such a loser, and sit down," Gerard says. "You look like you've never seen us before." Pete looks at Gerard then, who smiles and gestures at the carpeted floor in a grand manner that only he can pull off without looking ridiculous.

Pete sits down, just far enough away from the couch.

"What brings you to our bus, Pete Wentz?" Gerard says after a moment of silence and Pete has almost forgotten why he came here in the first place. "I needed to talk to Bob about something," he finally says and barely recognizes his own voice.

"Well, I think he might be out with the other guys, but he could also be plotting total world domination with Gabe." Gerard pauses for a moment, thinking it through and then adds, "Or maybe he's doing both."

Mikey huffs out a quiet laugh and Pete knows without turning around that he's closed his eyes again.

"Put that documentary back on, Gee, I hate it when you channel-surf," Mikey says. Gerard protests, but Pete can't concentrate on it. Mikey's hand is tangled in Pete's hair and he tugs at it, until Pete has to scoot all the way over, back firmly pressed against the couch. Mikey makes a noise that could mean anything and loosely drapes his arm around Pete's neck.

As Pete stares at the TV, not really seeing anything at all, he thinks that with Gerard touching Mikey and Mikey touching Pete, all Pete would have to do is to reach out and touch Gerard to make them a closed circle.

*

  
Pete's showered and dressed by the time MCR has their set. He finds a spot in the darkness at the side of the stage, where he can't be seen. He's not in the mood for fans snapping pictures right now. His hoodie is soft and warm when he flips it up over his head and he shoves his hands deep into the pockets of his jeans.

He doesn't know why he came here. Sure the music's fantastic, the band is fucking incredible, they're his friends. But if he's really honest with himself, all of that is a lie. Pete knows why he came here.

There's something he needs to see, something that's been lingering in the back of his mind for a while now.

He stands there, watches the set, listens to the music and the screaming of the fans. He never takes his eyes off of them: Gerard strutting around the stage like he owns the very air all of them are breathing, Frank whirling around like a madman, Ray a blur of hair and fingers on his guitar, Bob so wrapped up in the beat and the band and Mikey on his bass, barely contained energy. Pete recognizes something of himself in all of them, a base code that makes them musicians.

After a while he forgets what he's looking for, wonders if he's gone completely crazy. He starts to listen to the music more, sings along under his breath when Gerard leans forward on the stage. The screaming fans are reaching for him like they can catch what he's feeling with their hands. It's a strange thing to witness when you're not the one eliciting that reaction and Pete feels goosebumps crawl up his arms. He shivers and decides he's seen enough, is about to turn away when it happens.

Gerard walks right up to Mikey, leans into him over his shoulder, long fingers curling around Mikey's throat as he sings into his ear. Neither of them lose their grip on the music. Mikey doesn't look up, Gerard stares out at the fans. It's the slow tilt of Mikey's head to the side, that makes Pete swallow heavily, the way Mikey goes completely still against Gerard for the briefest of moments.

It's over before Pete has time to really understand. Gerard is already halfway across the stage in the blink of an eye, wrapped around Frank who leans back and licks up his neck, the fans going wild for them.

Pete takes one last look at Mikey and the spot on his neck where Gerard's fingers had touched and leaves.

He walks back to his bus and curls up in his bunk without speaking to the others. He pulls the blanket up to his chin and balls his hands to fists to keep from touching himself, dick hard ever since he walked away from what he'd seen.

Pete falls asleep telling himself over and over that it's all just in his mind.

*

  
After that it becomes a thing. Pete spends most of the following days ignoring his thoughts and most of the nights jerking off to the image of Gerard and Mikey, together.

It shows in his lyrics, it fucks up his sleep even more than usual and it quiets him down in a way that surprises even himself.

Patrick takes exactly four days to corner him in the bus kitchen at three a.m. to demand an answer.

"What's up, Pete?" he asks and the question is so casual that Pete knows exactly what Patrick means. He says, "Nothing," anyway; it's worth a try. But Patrick is determined and so Pete obediently slides onto the couch next to him when Patrick tells him to. He thinks it's easier this way, when he doesn't have to look Patrick in the face.

"I'm worried," Patrick says, but his arm around Pete's shoulders feels as if Patrick's not worried about anything at all. Pete lets himself be pulled in, head resting comfortably against Patrick's shoulder. "You've been sort of quiet lately and not that I don't appreciate it..." Pete hears him smile and has to smile himself, an automatic response he can't help. "But usually you work whatever it is out somehow and I, uh, get the feeling that's not happening here."

Pete listens to Patrick's words and tries to formulate an answer, the right one. It's surprisingly hard.

"It's about Mikey," he finally says, words only half true and not at all what he meant to say. Patrick squeezes his shoulder reassuringly and waits. And the thing is, Pete doesn't really know what the answer is himself. Some part of him vaguely knows the exact sharp truth, but Pete's mostly sure he's making the whole thing up, out of thin air. Seeing it because he wants to see it. He's good at that.

"I--I never realized how...how close he and Gerard are. It's. They're their own thing, you know?" he finishes lamely and scrubs a hand over his eyes, because he's goddamn tired and the words aren't coming out right.

Somehow Patrick manages to pick out the important parts anyway, because he nods next to Pete and says, "They're brothers, Pete. They've been through a lot of shit together, you know that. And they're in a band. Look at how close we are. These guys have that plus being brothers. Of course that makes them closer than other people. Don't be jealous of that. I mean," he hesitates, almost as if to wait for Pete's protest, but when nothing comes he says, "Mikey's always going to be closer to Gerard than you. That doesn't—it doesn't change what you guys had."

They're both quiet after that and Pete thinks that Patrick's probably right, that yeah, he'd been jealous, that had been it. He thinks of Mikey and Gerard on the couch, so comfortable together, and says, "You're probably right. Sometimes I, you know, forget. That they're...brothers."

"Yeah," Patrick says and leans in, presses a kiss to Pete's cheek, slow and familiar.

Pete feels sleepy then, but he says, "You made this speech so I'd finally write you some good lyrics, didn't you?" and when he looks up, Patrick rolls his eyes and says, "Obviously," in a mock serious tone. They laugh and Pete can feel himself relax again, like the past week was only another insomnia induced waking nightmare and maybe that was it. He's had plenty of those in his life.

Pete eventually gets up, stretching like a cat to get Patrick to roll his eyes again and mutter, "Poser," in an affectionate voice.

The fact that Patrick doesn't say a word when Pete crawls into his bunk with him later shows how worried he was and Pete feels a pang of guilt. He strips out of his shirt and curls against Patrick's side. Patrick slings an arm over his waist and pulls him close, exhaling slowly.

They fall asleep like that.

*

  
The next morning Pete wakes up before Patrick. He spends the time until the others appear for breakfast with making coffee and fishing the worm out of the Tequila bottle they got in Mexico. He drops the worm into the coffee he sets out for Joe and decides that his band has had way too much time to get used to his quiet, prank-free state.

Later, when they're all sitting around the table, Joe screams like a little girl when he discovers the worm. He tries to punch Pete in the kidneys from across the table, but is only moderately successful and Pete laughs so hard his sides hurt. Out of the corner of his eye he can see Patrick smile at him and just like that Pete knows that he's alright again, that whatever had been pulling at him, pulling him down, has cleared. He doesn't question it any further, chalks it up to another of the weird chemical reactions his brain sometimes forces on him and runs from Joe's death grip as fast as he can, yelling triumphantly all the way.

*

  
Gabe discovers two small bikes in the venue they play that night and bets Pete he can out ride him through the long corridors of the building. Pete is not one to back down from a challenge and they swing themselves on the bikes and are off.

The things are tiny and driving around sharp corners makes the bike wobble precariously under Pete. His legs are too long and he has to fold them sideways, knees scraping the walls a couple of times. Somehow Gabe gains the upper hand, rounding a corner before Pete and disappearing around the next with a victorious, "Take that asshole!" over his shoulder.

Pete peddles faster because there is no way that Gabe Saporta will beat him on a pink girl's bike and live to tell the tale.

He rounds another corner into one of the longer corridors and sees Mikey sitting at the end of it, bass carefully cradled in his lap.

"Hey, Mikes," Pete yells and Mikey looks up and smiles at him. "High five!"

Mikey obediently lifts his hand and waits for Pete to come close enough to high five him as he rides past. "Gabe's kind of better at this than you are," he says to Pete's retreating back and Pete can hear the bastard smile without having to look back around.

"Fuck you, Mikeyway," he yells as the corridor twists to the side and Pete speeds up.

A couple of feet later Pete almost hits a wall when his brain catches up with the rest of him and helpfully informs Pete that Mikey had a bright red hickey on his neck.

Pete forces his bike to a halt and sits on the saddle, staring at the dirty wall in front of him. "Huh," he says and he's not quite sure what that means, if it even means something. He fumbles for his Sidekick, texting Mikey before he can stop himself, bike race temporarily forgotten.

_looks liek u got lcky last n8_

A moment later his Sidekick beeps.

_ur mom sys hi._

Pete laughs and hollers, "Fuck you!" as loud as he can and hears Mikey's answering laugh echo hollowly from afar.

When he looks up, Gabe is driving towards him, yelling, "Hey Wentz, are you giving up, or what?"

Pete fakes an injury until Gabe is close enough and then Pete turns his bike around and drives past Gabe, whooping loudly.

Gabe immediately drives after him, loudly exclaiming, "You will pay for this, Pete Wentz. My band will come and kill you in your sleep."

"They'll never get past my ninja drummer," Pete yells back and almost flips off his bike when he tries to avoid two techs walking down the corridor.

Gabe catches up with him and they ride side by side. By the time Gabe's starting to try to push Pete off his bike, Pete has already forgotten the encounter with Mikey.

*

  
It's the change in medication, maybe, or the cold he had last week that his body hasn't quite gotten over yet. Whatever it is Pete feels like absolute shit Thursday evening when he comes off stage. He throws up in the bathroom and only feels worse after that, hair sticking wetly to his forehead, palms as clammy as the rest of his body.

The others look at him and he can see the worry in their eyes, but he's fucking exhausted and the last thing he needs right now is for anyone to take care of him. He's not some delicate flower or whatever, so he disappears into the labyrinth of the venue before any of them can talk to him.

He scrubs over his face with a towel he picked up on the way out, then carelessly drops it on the floor as he rounds one corner after the other, mindlessly walking on without any specific goal. He wants to be alone, wants one fucking moment to himself to regroup and pull it together, where no one can interrupt him. Maybe he needs to throw up again until he feels better, getting rid of the dizzy feeling that's blurring the corners of is vision. The details don't exactly matter right then.

Pete's pretty sure he's lost by the time he rounds another corner and stands in front of a dead end with two doors, one of them half open, the other one closed. He turns around and looks at where he came from, briefly considers going back. Then he walks to the closed door and pushes it open. It swings inward quietly.

It's too late to back out of the room when Pete finally realizes he's not alone. The scene unfolds in front of him in slow motion. A rational part of his brain tells him that it's only an illusion, that it's all happening too fast for him to process.

What he sees is Gerard pressed against a wall of the small room, hands in Mikey's hair, pulling him closer. They're kissing like they're drowning, deep and messy, desperate. Mikey has one leg between Gerard's and they move together in a steady rhythm, Mikey's pants riding low on his hips, like they were about to--

"Fuck," Pete says, before he has time to hold the word back. "Fuck," he says again, louder, because he doesn't know what else to do, feels his dick stiffen in his pants, sees Gerard's eyes snap open and focus on him. Sees things unravel before him, painfully slow.

Pete watches surprise, anger and fear slip over Gerard's face in the blink of an eye before it turns carefully blank. Gerard pushes Mikey away to arm's length. He says, "Pete," in a voice that sounds so fucking normal that Pete almost thinks he's woken up from another fucked up dream he had about the two of them. That it was all just in his head.

And then Mikey turns to look at him, eyes wide with fear, like Pete is going to hit him, like Pete is going to _tell_ someone about this.

Pete turns around and runs before he throws up in front of them.

He hears Mikey yell his name in a voice he never wants to hear again and then his feet give out under him, exhaustion overpowering his body. Pete retches, the bitter taste of bile in his mouth as his stomach tries to turn itself inside out. There's a numb feeling that spreads through his body, dizziness finally getting the better of him. Then the corridor tilts sideways and everything goes dark around Pete.

*

  
He wakes up in a hotel bed to Patrick looking at him worriedly and Andy and Joe bustling around the room.

"Welcome back." Patrick hands him a glass of water without being asked and Pete smiles weakly at him. He gulps it down in one go, dry taste in his mouth slowly disappearing.

"The doctor said you're only running a high fever, nothing more serious, but you should stay in bed. We canceled the show tomorrow. Next one's not till Tuesday, so we're good." Patrick looks calm enough and so Pete believes him, when he says he – they – will be okay.

"I'm sorry," he says and his voice still sounds scratchy, but his throat doesn't feel like sandpaper anymore.

"It's okay, wasn't your fault." Patrick leans forward and squeezes Pete's shoulder. "It's a good thing Gerard found you. Who knows how long you would've been lying in that corridor otherwise."

"Gerard," Pete echoes lamely, memory rushing back to him like ice cold water over the head.

"Motherfucker hauled your skinny ass all the way back to our bus," Joe says, sounding seriously impressed, and he promptly gets into an argument with Andy, who says he knew how strong Gerard was all along.

Pete tries hard to pay attention to them because this is normal, this is how it's supposed to be. It's Pete fucking up and Patrick worrying and Andy and Joe acting like nothing happened, worried just the same. But, no matter how hard he tries, all Pete can think about are Gerard's hands touching Mikey's face, Mikey's wide eyes as he turns around and sees Pete, Gerard's tongue slip-sliding over Mikey's bottom lip.

"So anyway, you should probably sleep some more now," Patrick says and Pete blinks back into a conversation he's apparently missed most of. Patrick doesn't seem to mind, relieved half-smile still on his face.

“I'll be back later after you've caught up on your sleep,” Patrick finally says and walks towards the door, looking meaningfully at the other two. Andy ruffles Pete's hair on his way out, because he knows Pete hates it, and Joe steals the chocolate from the pillow next to Pete's head.

Pete's asleep before the door falls shut behind them, images of Gerard and Mikey still replaying in his head over and over, like a broken movie reel.

*

  
Pete sleeps a lot during his forced downtime, drinks a lot of water and lets Patrick tell him about everything that's going on outside, like nothing has changed at all. He feels restless; he wants to be out there, moving, playing bass. Trying to stay still isn't what Pete does and he feels bad enough about a show being canceled because of him, even though Patrick keeps insisting that it's not his fault.

He doesn't even realize he's checking his Sidekick every two minutes, light flick of his wrist to look at the display, until Patrick jokingly asks him if he's waiting for a call from someone special. Pete blinks at him for a few moments, blood rushing in his ears as he shrugs it off and thinks _fuck_.

Because Pete realizes what this is.

He wants.

Wants the way Gerard looked at Mikey, open and intense, wants the way Mikey clung to Gerard like an anchor, wants to touch, feel, _have_.

*

  
He texts Mikey first because it seems like the thing to do. Easier somehow. Mikey doesn't answer and neither does Gerard. Pete's not sure why he's even surprised, but it hurts. On some logical level he understands that what happened should simply be forgotten, played off as some fever dream they all shared.

But.

Pete's never been good at letting sleeping dogs lie.

*

  
"Are you trying to steal my drummer?" Frank asks him a week later, jumping onto Pete's back and clinging like a monkey.

Pete tries to shake him off, eyes flitting guiltily away from Mikey and Bob. He's been watching Mikey for days now, looking for a chance to get him alone. But Mikey seems to know pretty well what Pete's up to and always has at least one other person around. It drives Pete insane because he has to talk about this, needs to make Mikey understand that he will keep quiet.

Or maybe he needs to make them understand something completely different. He's not even sure anymore _what_ he's trying to tell them.

"Fuck off, Frankie," he says finally, but Frank only clings tighter, hands twisting painfully over Pete's throat.

"Not until you tell me why you're stalking my band."

"I'm not stalking your band, I just need to talk to Mikey alone," Pete says and the minute the words are out of his mouth, he realizes that he's forgotten to lie about why he's there.

Fucking Frank Iero.

Frank hoots triumphantly right into Pete's ear and lets go of his neck. "Why didn't you say that before, you fucker?" He waves at Mikey who's laughing at something Bob said, back half turned to them, not noticing.

Frank sighs heavily, like being ignored happens to him a lot, and then draws a deep breath of air and yells, "Hey Mikeyway, Wentz wants to suck your cock."

Pete freezes and Mikey, who turned around at the sound of his name, sees Pete and his laugh falters and slips right off his face.

Awkwardness fills the air as neither of them make a move towards the other. Frank and Bob look between the two of them, like they're still waiting for the punchline.

Before Frank can ask what's going on, Pete turns around and leaves.

*

  
It's almost funny when Gerard corners him a few hours later, right before Pete is supposed to go on stage. Gerard shoves his arm roughly against Pete's throat, odd mirror of Frank's earlier clinging hands, and presses Pete into the dressing room wall.

It's almost funny because if Pete had known that all it would take to get Gerard to talk to him was to walk out on Mikey, he'd have done it a lot earlier.

"What the fuck did you do to Mikey?" Gerard spits in his face and Pete does laugh then, because if he doesn't he might start throwing punches instead.

"This is the thing you want to fight about? I mean, really?" Pete's voice sounds a bit choked, but still mocking enough that it provokes a flash of anger in Gerard's eyes, hot and immediate.

Nevertheless, he loosens his hold on Pete's throat a little and Pete takes a deep breath.

They're both silent for a moment, Gerard looking like he's waiting for Pete to start but Pete's just breathing. This is not his conversation to lead.

"What you saw, that--that day," Gerard finally says, not quite meeting Pete's eyes, arm still against Pete's throat like an afterthought, "It wasn't what it looked like, we were..." He trails off, like even he doesn't know how that sentence should end.

"Bullshit," Pete says softly and Gerard's eyes snap up to his and he opens his mouth to protest, to _lie_ , but Pete's tired of this, so tired.

 

"I know what I saw, Gerard, I _know_ ," he says and Gerard flinches. "I don't know why you both think avoiding me is something you need to do. You look at me like I'm going to tell the press or whatever, but I won't, okay? I've been trying to tell Mikey that, been trying to tell you that. I can keep my fucking mouth shut." It's not quite what Pete's been meaning to say, only half the truth, but close enough for the moment.

Gerard looks at him and his face twists into a grimace. Pete's acutely aware of Gerard against him then, holding him, not threatening, not yet.

"You think this is all some big game of keeping secrets, Pete? That you'll shut up and everything's fine? It's not as easy as that. It's not some fucking forbidden romance game or whatever. It's illegal, it's—he's my _brother_ , Pete." And then barely audible, "That was my brother I was kissing."

And all of a sudden the conversation's turned into something completely different. Pete feels like his skin is too small, like Gerard's tightening the hold on his throat instead of letting go and stepping away, too much distance between them now. Gerard looks like he regrets his words, like he's said things out loud he's only ever said in the quiet of his own head. Where the words aren't as real as they are out here between them.

Pete doesn't like the look in Gerard's eyes, doesn't like the way his shoulders sag in defeat. He fights it the only way he knows how to; he steps forward without thinking, reaches for Gerard's shirt and pulls him in for a rough kiss. Their teeth clash, mouths pressed together in an uncomfortable fit, but Pete doesn't care. All he needs is for Gerard to understand what he can't say.

All of it.

After a moment of hesitation Gerard kisses him back, tentative and uncertain and Pete feels it again, that same want in him when he saw Gerard with Mikey. He tastes it sharp on Gerard's lips too, feels it when he curls his hands tighter into Gerard's shirt.

He pulls away before Gerard can notice how much he really wants this. Them.

Gerard blinks at him slowly and there's too much on his face that Pete doesn't understand. Gerard opens his mouth to say something but seems to think better of it, touches his lips instead, never taking his eyes off of Pete.

They stare at each other silently, the loud screaming of the fans outside dimly filtering into the room.

There's a knock and Gerard's hand falls away from his mouth as he turns away from Pete, towards the noise.

Patrick sticks his head through the door. "Uhm, are you guys finished?" he asks tentatively. "We were supposed to be on stage two minutes ago."

"Yeah, we're finished," Gerard says quietly, before Pete can answer. He pushes past Pete, past Patrick who looks at him curiously.

Then he's gone but Pete can still feel Gerard's mouth on his, the slow ache coiling tightly in his belly.

"Pete? You ready?" Patrick asks and Pete looks at him, completely at a loss for an answer.

*

  
Two days later Pete gets on his bus and walks right into the middle of an impromptu party. He barely manages not to step on Nate's head, who lies sprawled out by the door like a watchdog.

"Hey guys," he hollers, "Wentz is finally here!"

There are some cheers and Pete grabs the bottle of beer Nate's holding while he's distracted. He can see Patrick animatedly talking to Ray in the back and tries to figure out how many people are crammed in between him and his singer. It's quite a lot actually. Apart from the guys of MCR, his band and the Cobras there's also a good handful of techs there and, if he's not mistaken, that is Bob making out with Vicky-T in the back lounge.

Pete grins and takes a sip of his beer. Bob is totally going to regret doing this in public tomorrow. Or whenever Gabe finds out.

The moment he thinks it, Gabe appears in front of Pete out of thin air. There's a wide grin on his face and he draws Pete in for a hug before Pete can escape. Gabe hugs with his whole body, head to toes, like hugs for him are foreplay on the way to really, really hot sex.

"Pete Wentz," he says happily against Pete's hair and then pulls back. "Look at you! They grow up so fast," he says in a wistful tone to the bus at large, but no one pays attention.

"You fuckers have a party and don't invite me. In my own bus!" Pete says, but he's grinning. It's hard not to when Gabe's already halfway to drunk and trying to leer at him anyway.

"Don't be like that, Petey. Look, I even brought you a present." He he pulls Pete over to the couch and pushes him onto it, right next to Mikey Way.

They stare at each other and Mikey looks as surprised as Pete feels, even though he must have known that this is Pete's fucking bus. Pete frowns at Gabe.

"Gabe, c'mon, what--"

"Oh shut up," Gabe interrupts him and neatly sits on Mikey's lap, long legs draped over Pete's, pulling the three of them closer together. "You guys are my two favorite friends in the world. I want you to kiss and make up."

"Hey, what about me? I thought I was your favorite friend," Ryland says from somewhere on the bus floor.

"You're my bitch, Ryland, that's different," Gabe answers and then slings an arm around Mikey's shoulders and gives him a smacking kiss on the cheek. Pete can see Mikey roll his eyes and smiles at the familiarity of it.

Ryland grumbles and Pete relaxes a little, takes another sip from his beer. He always feels more at ease with his friends around like this and so far Mikey has neither tried to hit him nor gotten up to leave. With a lap full of Gabe that's kind of hard of course, but Pete still counts it as a small victory.

"So," Gabe says, "what do you guys think, a round of spin the bottle? I feel like making out with people."

"Gabe, no," Mikey says at the same time Pete says, "How about strip poker?"

Mikey looks at him then and laughs quietly, his shoulder bumping against Pete's.

"That's more like it," Gabe says and slides out of Mikey's lap, like he had a mission and now it's accomplished. "But I'm only playing strip poker if I get to see Bob Bryar naked." And he starts making his way through the bus on the lookout for Bob.

There's a moment of silence, then Mikey says, "Should we warn Bob? He's in the back. With Victoria," and Pete's, "No way," comes as easily as if the past weeks never happened.

After that they fall into an easy conversation, sharing a bottle Alex helpfully hands them. It tastes like lemon and something sharp that's probably vodka, and Pete finds himself leaning into Mikey as the alcohol starts to work its way through his body. It's nice and warm and Mikey cards his fingers through the hair at the nape of Pete's neck like everything is alright again.

Pete wants to believe it is.

Gabe does finally manage to get a game of spin the bottle rolling after Vicky-T refuses to stop making out with Bob long enough to play strip poker. Pete's pretty sure that Gabe's too drunk to fully register that fact and hopes he's there come morning, when Gabe finally gets a clue and goes to demand an honorable fight from Bob and his band.

Next to him, Mikey takes a long drag of the bottle and sighs, curling into Pete in a complicated tangle of arms and legs and hips.

"You know, I'm sorry," he says, like they had been in the middle of a conversation. "I really am, for--" and he trails off and blinks sheepishly.

Pete waves it off. He doesn't want to hear this, not now, when they're just settling into being okay again. He tells Mikey as much and is surprised when he sees a brief flicker of disappointment on his face.

*

  
It's a lot later when Pete finally slides out of the death grip Mikey always has on him when he's drunk and fast asleep. He lets Mikey sprawl on the couch and carefully makes his way over Gabe and Ryland making out in what looks like a really uncomfortable position on the floor. When he passes Patrick, who's asleep in Joe's lap, Pete slides his glasses off of his nose and puts them on the table. Patrick mumbles something in his sleep and turns around.

Pete doesn't even bother to take his clothes off, crashes in his bunk and immediately falls asleep.

*

  
It feels like it's only a moment later when the curtain of his bunk rustles quietly and Mikey slips in next to Pete. It's probably been an hour or two, though, and Pete blearily blinks at Mikey as he settles in.

"Is this--is this okay?" Mikey says quietly, rolling the words around in his mouth, testing each one. His breath smells like alcohol and something else Pete can't quite name.

Pete shrugs and pulls Mikey in closer, one arm around his waist. He doesn't care really, sleep tugging insistingly at his mind. He slides his hand to the small of Mikey's back, fingers stroking over the strip of warm skin, where Mikey's shirt is riding up. Mikey curls against his side, one leg sliding between Pete's. It's so warm and familiar that Pete sighs and starts drifting off.

He's almost asleep again when Mikey says, "You know that me and Gerard, it's not just a thing," and Pete's eyes snap open, trying to focus in the half-darkness of the bunk.

"Don't, Mikey, please," he says, willing Mikey to understand.

"No, but I need to say this Pete. It's, it's not about sex, we wouldn't be taking the risk if it was only that. It's, we're--" and Pete can't hear what's inevitably going to come next, so he leans in and kisses Mikey.

It's nothing like the way he kissed Gerard, infinitely softer, but almost as urgent. Mikey moans and leans in further, sure where Gerard had been uncertain. His thigh moves up against Pete's dick, one hand sliding under Pete's shirt. Mikey deepens the kiss, his tongue carefully brushing over Pete's lips until Pete opens them.

Pete's dimly aware that Mikey's rubbing against his thigh and that he's hard, like Pete. And that's not what Pete meant to do at all, this is not who he wants to be, so he slides his hand into Mikey's hair and tugs until their lips part with a wet sound. Mikey makes a noise somewhere between a whine and a plea and Pete almost caves, because this is Mikey, soft and vulnerable and so fucking earnest.

"Mikey, we can't. You're with," he swallows the name before it slips out and says, "I can't, not like this," instead, which is almost painfully close to the actual truth.

He can feel the protest in the way Mikey's back curves, hears him draw a breath, ready to speak. Pete leans in for one more chaste kiss to stop him and then pulls away, hoping that it's enough.

"Go to sleep, Mikes," he says and turns around, turns his back so Mikey can't see how hard he still is. How much he still fucking wants this.

There's a slight rustling sound and Pete fully expects Mikey to get up and leave. Instead he tugs the blanket over both of them and rolls against Pete's back. He slides one hand over Pete's stomach, fingers slipping under Pete's shirt and coming to rest right over the tattoo there. It sends a shiver down Pete's spine that he has to force himself to ignore, like he has to ignore Mikey's mouth warm against the back of his neck.

It's strange how Mikey still fits against Pete in all the right places, even after all this time of being apart, even after what they are now.

Pete can feel Mikey's dick press into the small of his back, but Mikey's not moving, just holding on, so he doesn't say anything about it and pretends he's already sleeping, making his breath even and quiet.

He spends a long time listening to Mikey do the same.

*

  
The next evening he swaps a set of DVDs with Gerard in the parking lot and Gerard holds on a moment too long, pale fingers tracing the back of Pete's hand before he lets go and says, “Dude, you'll love it. Season 1 of _The OC_ is still the best,” and then turns right around and climbs back onto his bus.

Pete looks after him, skin still buzzing from the touch, wondering how much Mikey told Gerard about last night.

*

  
It's too late or too early, one of those, and Pete can't find the stupid tent that is supposed to have coffee. He stumbles through the wet grass, laces of his sneakers trailing behind him, tripping him up every few minutes.

He thinks he may be walking in circles, brain sluggish and unhelpful, and then he sees Mikey.

“Hey! Hey, Mikey!” he shouts and Mikey turns to look at him questioningly. He looks about as bad as Pete feels.

“Coffee?” and Mikey doesn't even answer, simply points in the direction he was going and waits for Pete to catch up. They shuffle to the tent in companionable silence and Pete blearily wonders how many times he's wandered past the damn thing without realizing it.

Inside it's warm and it smells like old bacon, but it also smells like coffee and Pete leaves Mikey standing at the entrance and almost stumbles into the wobbly table with the coffee pots. He pours himself a huge cup, dumps two packets of sugar in it and then inhales deeply. It smells fucking fantastic, even though he knows it's going to taste horrible. He takes one large gulp anyway, effectively burning his tongue. He refills his cup again to the brim and turns to look for Mikey.

The tent is empty, so it's not hard to find him, leaning closely against Gerard's side, two cups of coffee in front of them. Pete's brain needs a moment to catch up and to notice the way Mikey's whole body is tilted into Gerard's. He almost looks away, but then Gerard finds his eyes and for a moment they watch each other, Mikey drinking his coffee and pretending not to notice. Gerard smiles tentatively and Pete can't think of any reason at all why he shouldn't sit with them.

When he sits on the bench opposite them, neither Gerard nor Mikey move away from each other and Pete understands what it means without having to be told.

He takes another sip of coffee and feels it warm his whole body.

“I think you saved my life, Mikey,” he mumbles into his cup.

“Next thing you know he's gonna start singing my parts too,” Gerard says and looks at Pete with a bemused expression on his face. His shoulders loosen a little and he steals Mikey's cup out of his hand, their fingers touching long enough for Pete to notice.

“Hey,” Mikey protests weakly and Pete pushes his cup to him, watching carefully so Mikey doesn't drink it all in one go.

Of course he ends up doing just that. After emphatically saying, “Fuck you, Mikey, seriously,” Pete gets up and refills all of their cups.

*

  
Pete doesn't get to watch the DVD's he swapped with Gerard until a few days later, insomnia finally getting the better of him, rainbow colored pills keeping him awake. TV doesn't usually make him fall asleep, but he likes the warm flickering of the screen. It calms his mind down, giving his racing thoughts a vague direction.

His notebook's lying next to him and Pete pulls it into his lap, flexing his hand around the pen. Writing lyrics is an odd process for him, even without Patrick reading them. Sometimes he wonders how other people do it. Normal people.

On the screen Seth and Summer argue about something and Pete writes. He hasn't put much to paper in the last few weeks and now the words are flowing out of him, even though they're all tangled up in metaphors and symbols. But he knows what he's actually writing about, what he's trying to say.

There's a soft knock on the door of the bus and Pete looks up, blinks at his surroundings, not sure if he imagined it or not. People don't usually knock on the bus door, not really. He closes his notebook carefully anyway, stares at the TV screen in front of him. The bus door softly whooshes open and Mikey appears in the doorway, hair disheveled and all over the place. He looks tired and stumbles on his way in, door quietly shutting behind him.

“Couldn't sleep,” he mumbles and crawls on the couch next to Pete before Pete can say anything. He leans heavily against Pete's side. “Knew you'd still be awake.”

Pete wraps an arm around Mikey automatically, pulls him in closer and tries not to shiver when Mikey's breath ghosts over his neck, raising goosebumps. “I never sleep. I'm a superhero.”

Mikey huffs, not quite a laugh. “Even you sleep, Pete.” There's a beat of silence and then he says, almost like an afterthought, “What are we watching?”

“ _The OC_ , first season.”

Mikey hums and snakes his arm over Pete's belly, slips it under his shirt, cold fingers on warm skin. There's the briefest moment of hesitation before his hand slips lower, trailing right under the waistband of Pete's boxers. Mikey's breathing is slow and easy but Pete can feel the tension radiating from him and wonders what this is. It's not like Mikey to be this touchy-feely and the movement of his hand feels slow, calculated.

“Mikey.” Pete's not sure if he's asking something or not, whether he wants Mikey to stop or keep doing what he's doing.

He feels Mikey's hand still and then Mikey leans in, presses a kiss to Pete's neck. He doesn't say anything else.

Something in Pete itches to ask again, maybe start a fight, but he's having a hard time keeping the arguments straight in his own head. He lets out a breath and focuses on the TV again, tries to ignore Mikey's hand on his skin as best as he can.

The flickering images make him drowsy, but his thoughts are keeping him awake, never quite forming to coherence. He wonders if it's worth bending aside to get his notebook open and possibly losing Mikey's touch. He wonders if lyrics would even make sense at this point.

"Does Gerard know you're here?"

Mikey shrugs before Pete has enough time to freak out and curse his tongue for being faster than his brain, as always. "He probably will when he wakes up and sees that I'm gone."

"You guys sleep together?" And Pete really didn't mean for that question to slip out like that, but lack of sleep does weird things to him, especially when he's around people, who are, well--Mikey.

Mikey hesitates, then says, "Sometimes." There's a heavy silence and then he adds, "Not as often as Frank crashes in Bob's bunk though."

Pete huffs out a laugh and blinks his eyes, trying to chase away the inevitable little dots of light that come from sitting in near darkness for the better part of the night. He's trying to remember a time when Mikey was this honest with him. A time when they talked about Gerard like this.

He can't remember.

"How can you be sure he knows you'll be here?"

"Hm?" Mikey tilts his head away from Pete's shoulder to look at him. His hair is curling against the side of his ear, always a little too long when they're on tour. Pete remembers times when Mikey would push his glasses back up his nose now, an old habit that seems too hard to break.

"Nevermind," he says and stretches his legs out, wriggling his toes. His left foot has fallen asleep.

They watch in companionable silence as the situation on the screen unravels, characters running around. Pete sometimes has trouble keeping everyone's names straight, even though he's seen this season of _The OC_ about a dozen times at least. Maybe it's because he usually only watches, but doesn't actively think about the story. Maybe it's because he usually has other things on his mind when he watches TV.

"Do you have a problem? With--with us?" Mikey says it quietly but the question is enough to snap Pete out of his reverie. He doesn't need to ask which 'us' Mikey means. Carefully, he tries to figure out what the right answer is. If there even is a right answer.

"No. Yes. I mean, I don't know. How the hell should I know?" he finally offers and looks at Mikey, meeting his eyes directly.

"And here I thought you would provide an eloquent answer for once," Mikey says softly, the tiniest hint of a smile on his face.

Pete stares at him.

"Did you just crack a joke about this?"

Mikey shrugs, "Why the hell shouldn't I? It's either that or--"

"--insomnia," Pete interrupts him quietly. Mikey doesn't say anything to that, but the way he looks at Pete is enough of an answer.

In the middle of their silent staring contest there's a soft knock on the bus door.

"Is knocking some unwritten tour rule I'm not aware of?" Pete asks and Mikey shrugs again, raises his voice to say, "Come in."

Before Pete can object to _Mikey_ inviting people onto Pete's bus, the door swishes open softly and Gerard walks in.

He steps towards them as the door softly closes behind him again. It takes Pete a second to realize that Mikey still has his hand under Pete's shirt, that they're tilted together like--like.

"Gerard, I can--" He begins but Gerard interrupts him.

"You guys are watching _The OC_ without me?"

"Yeah, because you always cry when Ryan has to go away again that first time," Mikey says dryly and Gerard turns to look at him. They're staring intently at each other, like they're having a fight with no words. Pete tries to subtly inch away from Mikey, but Mikey tightens his grip, not taking his eyes off of Gerard.

"You guys are freaking me out," Pete finally says and Gerard looks at him, like he forgot Pete was in the room too.

He smiles. "Don't you read the papers, Pete? Mikey and I are basement vampires. We can do telepathy and everything."

"Right," Pete says, slipping into the easy banter. This he can do, he's good at ignoring the obvious. "If you can read thoughts, what am I thinking right now?" And he thinks _What the fuck is happening here?_ just for the hell of it.

"It's nothing nice," Gerard says and smiles, a good-natured, easy smile. And the thing is, it _feels_ easy, it feels like they've sorted something out, even though Pete can't hold onto the thought of what it is, why they needed to do it in the first place. He's too tired for this, he thinks for the millionth time, way too tired.

"You wanna sit and watch some more episodes with us?" Pete offers and Gerard's smile widens, "Definitely."

For the slightest moment he hesitates, then he sits down on Pete's other side, even though there is plenty of room left next to Mikey. He doesn't touch Pete, not like Mikey did, not like he still is, but Pete can feel the heat from Gerard's body from shoulder to hip. Gerard's sitting a lot closer than is strictly necessary.

"I really like this scene," Mikey offers eventually and Pete nods, trying to concentrate on the TV screen rather than on Mikey and Gerard sitting here, with him, in the middle of the night, like it's the most normal thing there is.

Like Pete fits in. With them.

There's a thought, right at the edge of Pete's mind. He's sure that if he can hold onto it long enough, he'll know what this means. Pete loses himself chasing the thought and eventually goes back to watching the pictures on the screen flit past in an endless stream of colorful images.

Next to him Gerard falls asleep within the span of a few minutes, softly starting to snore as the next episode cycles up. Mikey laughs against Pete's ear softly and whispers, "Fucking lightweight."

Pete nods and keeps staring intently at the screen, wondering when Mikey and Gerard and him, together like this, became so normal.

*

  
“I think we should have a water bomb fight,” Mikey says to Pete with a serious look on his face when they've arrived at the next venue, most of the day still to spare. He's leaning into Pete, one long arm hooked over his shoulder, fingers idly skimming over the fabric. Pete raises a questioning eyebrow, trying to ignore the warmth that seeps into his skin where Mikey's touching him.

“I mean. Gabe's been so fucking smug about that wet t-shirt contest thing yesterday. I thought it was time we paid him back,” and Mikey smiles his lopsided smile and tightens his hold on Pete's shoulder.

*

  
It's two days later, sun beating down hotly on them. They have nothing better to do and so the water bomb fight turns into more of a sneak attack than an actual fight, Pete and Mikey having prepared a bucket full of water balloons they bought two stops back.

Gabe doesn't stand a chance.

He's wet and dripping within seconds, standing between two buses blinking water out of his eyes.

“You call that a fair fight, assholes?” But there's a wide smile on his face, the one he always gets when someone's managed to surprise him.

“Payback's a bitch,” Mikey says and throws another one at Gabe's head. It pops with a satisfying splash.

“Oh, you have no idea.” Gabe turns right around, running for his bus.

“I think you better get your band,” Pete says and Mikey grins. “Yeah, probably.”

After that it really is a fight with water guns and water balloons on a field that turns from green to muddy brown.

At first there are are two sides, theirs, Mikey and Pete's, and Gabe's, but it only takes about ten minutes for everyone to start fighting everyone. Within an hour they're all soaked through. Gabe chases around the field with a supersoaker, while Vicky-T throws water-filled condoms at Pete's head. Gerard yells directions at Frank on who to attack and Patrick's standing next to him, hat dripping with water. He looks like he's trying to figure out a way to make the hose work that's lying at his feet, without actually having to take his eyes off of the water fight.

Pete manages to escape Vicky-T and takes a moment to struggle out of his wet t-shirt. Then he snags a water bucket out of Andy's hands, who was just gearing up to dump it on Joe. When he turns around to find Vicky, he sees Mikey and Gerard standing together, Mikey dripping and Gerard completely dry. It looks like they're watching him but Pete can't tell for certain. Before he has time to think about it, Gabe is jumping on his back and they tumble to the ground, water splashing from the bucket. They slip-slide through the mud, Gabe wrestling Pete to the ground in an attempt to get him as dirty as possible.

When Pete finally gets back up, body completely caked in mud with Gabe still gripping his ankles, he turns back around but neither Mikey nor Gerard are watching him. It feels like they had been only a few moments earlier.

*

  
Later, Pete and Mikey sit outside in the dried grass, each with their bass, playing. They've had burgers and iced tea, dirty wrappers still lying next to them. They're playing nothing in particular, little bits and pieces of music, back and forth. Pete's bass is ever so subtly off key because he was too lazy to tune it before he came outside.

It makes Mikey frown and Pete hits a few more off notes on purpose.

“Hey Mikey, can I borrow your lighter? I think I lost mine.” Gerard appears behind Pete's right shoulder and his legs bump against Pete's back and stay there, too close to be accidental. Mikey's completely unfazed and Pete catches the way he looks at his brother, feels something shiver down his spine. He leans back against Gerard, unable to stop himself.

Mikey fumbles in his pocket for the lighter, bass balancing on his knees and stretches forward to hand it to Gerard. Holding onto Pete's shoulder, Gerard meets him halfway in a move that must look pretty hilarious for an outsider, bent in half over Pete's back like that.

Pete doesn't feel like laughing at all.

“You should tune your bass, Pete,” Gerard says as he straightens back up, completely oblivious to the fact that Pete's tensing all over with Gerard's legs still pressed against his back. “I think it's out of tune.” It sounds earnest, like Gerard's only trying to help, but when Mikey smiles sharply at him, Pete's sure it's at something entirely different.

Gerard wanders off and Pete grabs a burger wrapper, turns to throw it at Gerard's retreating back.

He misses by a long shot.

*

  
It's the first hotel night in weeks, the first after Pete's fever and he's won a round of rock-paper-scissors against Patrick on who gets the first shower. Excited doesn't even come close to how Pete feels. Patrick, on the other hand, is pouting.

“Aw, Trick, come on, you can shower with me if you want to.” Pete slips an arm around his waist and Patrick can't be that angry when he doesn't even try to push it away.

“I still think you cheated. No way is cobra a valid, you know, whatever in rock-paper-scissors." Patrick frowns and pulls at his hat, wipes away a trickle of sweat. It's fucking hot in the hotel lobby and the one fan that's coughing it's way round and round as they walk to the elevator only moves hot air.

“Don't say that to Gabe, man, he won't be happy to hear it,” Pete says and smiles, licking the side of Patrick's neck. “Besides I love it when you're all sweaty. Means I can find you by smell alone.”

“God, you're so fucking gross, Wentz,” Patrick says and starts laughing when Pete licks the shell of his ear in answer.

As they wait for the elevator to arrive, Mikey and Ray come up behind them, each balancing their own overnight bag.

“I sure hope the rooms are air-conditioned,” Ray grumbles by way of greeting and Patrick nods so emphatically Pete has to laugh, slipping away from him to bump his shoulder against Mikey's.

“How's it going, Mikeyway?” he says and feels Mikey shrug more than he sees it.

“Gee's letting me have the first shower, could be worse,” and Pete smiles at him.

The elevator pings softly then to announce its arrival and they crowd inside, Ray pressing the button for the third floor, Pete the one for the fourth.

They're silent for the short ride up, an instrumental version of Don't Worry Be Happy tinkling away softly in the background.

At the third floor the doors are barely open before Ray rushes out like his life is on the line.

Mikey shrugs apologetically at them. “Ray's weird about showers,” and then he steps out of the elevator too, hesitating between the doors.

“Hey, Gee and I are having a Zombie marathon later. Dawn of the Dead, classic and remake, and some other movies. You guys can come if you want to.”

Patrick says, “Thank you, but I--” at the same time Pete says, “Sure thing.”

Mikey shrugs again. “We're in 308, just come by whenever,” and steps out of the doors, walking down the corridor.

Pete watches his retreating back until the elevator doors softly click shut again.

*

A couple of hours later he's sitting cross-legged on Mikey's bed, watching as a hoard of Zombies tear into a helpless woman. Gerard makes a small noise and it's hard to figure out whether he disagrees with the movie or acknowledges its gruesomeness. He's sitting on the floor in front of the TV, legs outstretched, drawing something into his spiral book, only half paying attention to the movie anyway.

Mikey's lying next to Pete on the bed, his side only barely touching Pete's knee. He has his chin propped up on his folded arms and watches the screen intently, although Pete's pretty sure Mikey's seen this movie often enough to know the dialog by heart.

It's comfortable in the same way Pete's clothes feel comfortable against his freshly showered skin. He doesn't even blink anymore when Mikey holds out a hand occasionally to tug a stray strand of hair out of Gerard's face. Maybe that's weird, maybe it only means that he passed some silent test or something.

Around the beginning of 28 Days Later Mikey and Gerard get into a fight about Cillian Murphy and British horror movies in general. Pete nods and agrees with them at the appropriate moments and after a while, when they seem to have forgotten he's there at all, he stretches out on the bed, dozes off.

*

Pete blinks awake to the credits rolling, white on black. The screen is barely illuminating the dark room, but he can see Mikey and Gerard kissing clearly enough. Mikey's leaning far over the edge of the bed and Gerard's craning his neck upwards, meeting him halfway.

Pete spends a long moment watching, he can't not, then he starts making exaggerated waking up noises to give them enough warning. When he sits up they're still kissing and his stomach does a weird flip-over that he refuses to think of as hopeful.

“I'm, ah, gonna go now,” he says and his voice sounds shaky even to his own ears. He slides his feet off of the bed, rubs a hand through his hair to buy himself enough time to get his legs to work properly. When there's no answer, he chances a look back and Gerard and Mikey aren't kissing anymore. They're quietly sharing a look.

“Stay,” Gerard finally says and looks at Pete almost--almost desperately. Pete swallows hard and firmly digs his bare feet into the carpeted floor, pressing his hands into the soft comforter to push up and away.

“Pete.” Mikey's hand winds around his wrist, holding on. He sounds a lot surer than either Pete or Gerard. Pete's shoulders sag a little and he turns around, even though it costs him a lot of energy.

“We--it's okay. We want you to stay,” Mikey says, still holding onto Pete's wrist. He looks at Gerard who nods and then turns his gaze back to Pete. Gerard looks surer now, the desperation from earlier gone, maybe filed away for later.

And Pete desperately wishes he could say no to them, tell them he doesn't want this, but he'd be lying. He wants this bad, maybe more than Gerard or Mikey realize.

“I'm. Are you sure?” he asks and looks at Gerard and then at Mikey. He knows that if he sees even the slightest bit of doubt in their faces he won't be able to do this, he won't.

They look steadily back at him and something inside Pete uncurls softly and he feels heat spread in his cheeks. This is probably the worst decision he's made in his life and he knows he'll have to deal with it.

Later.

For a brief, hesitant moment they're all quiet, staring at each other in turn, like they're not quite sure what to do now. Then Mikey gently tugs at Pete's wrist and pulls him close enough to press a tentative kiss to his lips. It's nothing like the way Mikey usually kisses him, a bit stilted and awkward from the angle. Pete feels his hand give and he falls backwards on the bed, bites down on his lip to keep the nervous laughter in.

Mikey follows him down though, mouth tightly pressed against Pete's lips, and Pete runs his hands up Mikey's sides. They kiss slowly and for a while Pete forgets everything that is not Mikey's mouth on his; for a while it really is only them. Then the bed dips and Pete becomes aware of his surroundings again, breaks the kiss to watch Gerard slide in next to him. Gerard leans forward and puts his hand comfortingly on Mikey's back.

Pete's breath is heavy in the ensuing silence and he looks at Gerard, expecting him to make the next move. But it's Mikey who finally pulls away and takes his shirt off, letting it slide to the bed beside him with a finality that makes Pete swallow. Mikey fumbles with the button of his jeans next, moves off the bed to wriggle out of them. Pete's caught up in watching him, lying on his back on the bed in their hotel room, feeling way out of his depth. He chances a glance at Gerard who's watching too, concentration all over his face like this is a test he's taking. When he feels Pete watching him, he takes his eyes off Mikey, looks at Pete like he's seeing him for the first time. Then he takes the hem of his shirt and pulls it up over his head too, carelessly tossing it aside.

Pete's struck by the thought that he's never seen Gerard with anything less than a t-shirt and sweatpants, not when he was sober, in any case. He reaches out before he can consciously register the thought, touching his hand to Gerard's chest. It feels soft under the touch and he slides his hand down over Gerard's belly, tracing its outline. Gerard makes a breathy noise when Pete's hand slides up his ribs and for the first time Pete wonders if there are any rules here. If there's anything he's not allowed to do.

He pulls his hand away sharply, sits up.

Gerard seems to get what's going on because he says, "Ticklish. I'm kinda ticklish," and shrugs, skin momentarily pulling tight around his shoulders.

"I--okay. Just," Pete hesitates because he feels weird asking what he should do now, but that's kind of what he needs to know.

"Take off your clothes," Mikey says quietly next to him and Pete looks over at him sitting on the bed, kicking his pants the rest of the way off.

Pete nods. He can do that. "Okay," he says out loud. "Okay," a little quieter, almost to himself.

He strips his shirt off, then his pants a little more slowly, trying not to think too hard about being naked in front of them. Next to him Gerard fights his way out of his own pants, impatiently ripping at them when they get stuck on his foot. He feels Mikey lean back next to him, touch his arm slowly, reassuringly. Pete wonders why this feels normal, almost as if they've done it before.

"Think about it later," Mikey whispers into Pete's ear, sitting even closer now than before. It sounds like something Mikey's saying as much to himself as to Pete. For some reason that feels reassuring.

In a pretty ungraceful move, Pete gets out of his pants and starts tugging on his boxers. He gets stopped by Gerard's hand over his. He looks up, didn't even notice how intently he'd been staring at his own damn underwear.

Gerard's completely naked, kneeling on the bed next to Pete. There's an intense look on his face, one Pete has never seen before. He's caught up staring at Gerard's naked body, his dick, already half hard, the way the muscles in his belly clench when he leans forward. Gerard presses a kiss to Pete's mouth then moves down, licks over Pete's sternum and trails small kisses down his body. Before Pete can do anything, touch Gerard, say something, take another breath, Mikey's hand slides over his cheek into his hair, tilting Pete's head sideways. He softly rubs his thumb over Pete's temple and just as Gerard begins tugging down Pete's boxers, Mikey kisses him.

It's a different kind of kiss now, deeper, more intent behind it. Mikey's tongue wetly slides against Pete's as he presses closer, his dick sliding over Pete's hip. Pete somehow manages to wedge his arm under Mikey's body to pull him closer, to touch more of his skin. It's why he's caught off guard when Gerard wraps his hand around Pete's dick and takes it into his mouth without any hesitation. Pete splutters, pulls away from Mikey and gets out, "Jesus fuck." Because before, it was just kissing, but now it's real, now it's sex.

The only reaction is Gerard humming around Pete's dick, taking it in a little deeper, tongue sliding along the underside. Mikey doesn't say anything either, instead starts licking at the sensitive spot right beneath Pete's ear. The one he knows makes Pete squirm. His hips jerk a little as he moves against Pete's side, unselfconsciously rubbing against Pete's skin. Pete takes a deep breath, lets it out in a groan when Gerard moves down as far as he can, sucking hard on Pete's dick. 

"Fuck," Pete says again, unable to be much more coherent than that. He uncurls his left hand from where it's clenched in the linen, reaches for Gerard's head and gently puts his hand down on top of it.

"Okay?" he manages to get out and Gerard pulls off of his dick, still holding the base, and looks up at him, lips shiny with spit. "Yeah," he says, voice a little deeper and husky at the end. Pete watches him as he licks his lips, slowly, for show. Gerard in bed is a lot more like the guy Pete knows from on stage. It shouldn't be surprising, really, but it makes something electric spark through Pete's body and he involuntarily clenches his hand in Gerard's hair, winding it around his fingers. Gerard doesn't seem to mind it, takes it as his cue to go back down on Pete, sucking him off slowly, way too slowly.

It's the kind of blowjob Pete can feel all the way to his toes, not some expertly choreographed thing like the girls on the road always seem to give. No, it's more like--like Gerard's really into it, like he's making up for less expertise with more enthusiasm. Pete turns his head, catches Mikey's lips with his again because otherwise he knows, he's going to make embarrassing noises. Mikey eagerly strains for him, rolling his hips against Pete's in an even rhythm. It's good, hell, it's better than good but Pete needs more. He tries to get his arm out from under Mikey again, cursing himself for putting it there in the first place.

Pete feels awkward moving around like that, but finally he gets his arm free, still holding on to Gerard's hair somehow, not guiding, just holding on. He flexes his free arm a bit, tries to get feeling back into it, then he moves it between himself and Mikey. The angle is not quite right but Pete's determined and is rewarded by a small, barely audible noise from Mikey when he wraps his hand around Mikey's dick. Gerard does something with his tongue, that feels incredible and Pete starts moving his hand up and down the length of Mikey's dick, matching up the rhythm.

The wet noises Gerard's making drown out anything else besides his harsh breathing and Pete loses himself in the feeling, drifts slowly on the tingling sensation spreading through his body. He has to stop moving his hand eventually, because his wrist is killing him, instead settling for rubbing his thumb against the spot right below the head of Mikey's dick. It seems to work too, because Mikey puts his hand on Pete's chest, fingers digging into the skin. Pete smiles, a warm, protective feeling he gets from the familiarity of Mikey holding on, touching, where other people would make noises.

And then Gerard moves up and away, and before Pete has time to protest Gerard scoots down on the bed a bit. He leans back in, trails his tongue down Pete's dick and then lower, over his balls, to the sensitive skin behind them. Gerard pushes at Pete's legs with his hands and Pete bends his knees, puts his feet on the bed without hesitation. He feels Mikey's breath reassuringly warm against the side of his neck, trails his thumb through the precome on Mikey's dick and then Gerard licks even lower, licks there, one long wet stripe over Pete's hole. Pete bucks up, whole body moving up off the bed automatically. 

Mikey leans out of the way so he doesn't get hit by Pete's arm and Gerard's hands curl around Pete's thighs, pulling him down. Holding him in place. Pete's breath comes fast and uneven when Gerard leans back in, licks and sucks, tongue circling around Pete's hole and then pushing inside, slowly but persistently. It's an intense feeling that makes Pete's toes curl and he simultaneously wants to get away and move closer. He vaguely feels Mikey move away from his side, there's the sound of the drawer next to the bed opening and closing, but all Pete can focus on, all there is, is Gerard's tongue pushing in, spreading him open.

Spit trails down the crack of his ass and Gerard lets go of his thighs, puts his thumbs on either side of Pete's hole, pulling him open. The way he pushes his tongue in and out is slow, contained and it makes the pressure inside Pete build, his dick straining up against his belly. He's pretty sure he's going to come soon if Gerard keeps at this; he's even more convinced when Gerard slips one of his thumbs in alongside his tongue, delicious stretch making it hard to focus on anything.

It's Mikey's voice that finally pulls him back. "Gee," he says and he sounds calm despite his erection pressing against Pete's hip and the slight flush on his cheeks. Pete has trouble focusing on him through heavy eyes and Gerard crooking his tongue in a way that makes Pete shiver all over.

"Gerard." Mikey's voice is barely louder but this time Gerard listens, moves away. Someone whimpers and Pete absently realizes it's him.

Gerard sits up enough so he can look at Mikey, cheek almost grazing Pete's knee. There's spit glistening on his chin and his lips look even redder than before. His hair is disheveled from where Pete held on to it. The skin on his forehead is coated in sweat. Pete almost can't look away. Then Gerard nods, mostly to himself, but when Pete looks back at Mikey he's moved down the bed and Gerard moves away and--

"Did you guys plan this or something?" Pete's voice sounds rough to his own ears and he really only meant it as a joke, but Gerard looks guiltily at Mikey. Pete's left wondering how the fuck he got here, before Gerard turns his gaze back to him.

"Does it bother you?"

Pete vehemently shakes his head. Whatever. It's not like he objects to a bit of coordination in threesomes; it's hard enough getting two people together let alone three. Fleetingly, he wonders if they talked about him, if Gerard told Mikey about that drunken night or if Mikey told Gerard what Pete looks like when he comes. It makes him feel strangely vulnerable in a way that goes beyond lying naked in bed with both of them. He closes his eyes briefly and breathes in, out and in again, then pushes all the thoughts as far from his mind as he can. 

He opens his eyes when one of them - Mikey, it's Mikey - touches his hip. "Roll over. On your knees," he says. It's not meant to be dirty talk, but the decisive tone in Mikey's voice turns Pete on anyway. Gerard looks on, waiting for them to rearrange themselves, waiting for Pete to move to where they want him. 

It takes a moment for Pete to get his bearings enough to flip over and move up on his hands and knees. His legs slip a little on the blankets, sweaty skin making it hard to maintain the position. He puts his head down on his arms and waits, feeling over-exposed and tense. There are hands on his hips, he thinks they might be Mikey's, but he's not sure. Pete hears a dull pop, thinks lube and turns his head sideways, catching a glimpse of Mikey slicking up his fingers. Definitely Mikey then. His fingers disappear from view and Pete feels them slide into his ass next, no pause, two fingers spreading him open.

This feeling is something he'll never get over, the slow, aching burn, spreading out through his body. He tries to figure out where Gerard is, what he's doing, but then Mikey adds a third finger and pushes deeper and Pete forgets what he was thinking of. Mikey puts a reassuring hand on the small of his back, pushing gently, changing the angle of his fingers. He moves them in and out and back in again in a fast paced rhythm that barely leaves Pete time to adjust. As the lube warms around his ass, a little trickling over his balls, Pete feels a third hand on his back, this one clearly Gerard's. It slides down Pete's back, coming to rest on his neck. Gerard softly presses his fingertips into the muscles there and Pete moans, warm touch rubbing the ache out of his muscles. 

"Okay," he gets out, says it to no one in particular really, but Mikey pulls his fingers out. It's accompanied by a wet sound and Pete feels empty, ass clenching around nothing. He whines, low in his throat and Gerard leans over, presses a kiss to Pete's shoulder blade. 

There's a rustling sound, the condom, Pete thinks and then Mikey curses softly. "Gee, help me with this. My fingers--" he leaves the sentence hanging, but Pete can feel Gerard shifting away already, warm touch disappearing from the back of Pete's neck. He doesn't need to look around to know what's going on, but does it anyway.

He sees Gerard's hands, ripping the condom open. Sees him reach for Mikey's dick, hard and straining and roll it on slowly. Pete has to look away again, scramble to get his hand on his dick and squeeze the base hard to keep from coming. He tries to think of something unsexy, like dirty socks or mold, but before he can focus on anything the bed behind him dips as Mikey shifts forward.

Even though Pete expects it, the blunt press of Mikey's dick against his opening still surprises him. Mikey curls his hands around Pete's hips when he pushes in, slower than he was with his fingers, inch for inch as he fills Pete. It's by far not the first time Pete's done this and certainly not the first time Mikey's fucked him either, but this, this feels new, different. Pete concentrates on relaxing, accepting the pressure, taking even breaths. Gerard's moving around again and then he's touching Pete's dick, hand loosely curling around it; Pete shoves back involuntarily, taking Mikey in to the base. For a moment they stay that way and only Gerard moves, settles in next to Pete, hand evenly stroking Pete's dick. His knee bumps against Pete's side and when Pete turns his head to the side, Gerard's sitting cross-legged next to him, looking relaxed and calm. 

It's almost too much already and when Mikey starts moving again, not slow, but fast, hard now, Pete bites his lip to keep from babbling nonsense. It doesn't quite work at first, Mikey pushing in when Pete tries to rock forward, Gerard's arm always getting in the way. Mikey gets impatient and grips Pete's hips so hard he's bound to leave imprints. He pulls Pete back hard, hitting just the right spot, rocking Pete forward and they manage to settle into a rhythm from there. Somehow Gerard manages to adjust to it, jerking Pete off a little unevenly in time to Mikey pushing in.

Pete's shoulders start hurting from the strain after a while, trying to hold himself up. But following the rhythm they slip into is something he's good at and he loses himself in the sensations again. Gerard's hand is strong around his dick, doing a little twist on the upward stroke every time. It makes something in Pete's belly curl tightly. And then there's Mikey. Pete can hear him breathe hard, can almost imagine the focused look on Mikey's face as his dick slips into Pete's ass deep and slides back out. Pete can feel the orgasm build fast and tries to hold on, tries to draw it out as long as possible. He can't quite put his finger on why, because he's sure neither of them cares when or how fast Pete comes. Maybe he only wants to draw this out for as long as possible, because both of their attention is focused on him, the way he's with them in this moment, now, instead of looking in from the outside.

Mikey lets go of his hip, strokes his hand up Pete's spine, sweat pooling under his palm, then trails it back down to the small of Pete's back. When he wraps his hand around Pete's dick too, his fingers overlapping with Gerard's, that's what finally pushes Pete over. He comes with a choked off curse, body stuttering forward. Mikey tries to keep holding him up as he comes, clenching around Mikey's dick in his ass, eyes closed tightly. He feels Gerard's hand slow down, stroke him through it. He hears Gerard say something to Mikey, can't quite make it out over the loud rushing sound of blood in his ears, but it could be, "Come on, Mikey," or something else entirely.

He sags forward a little, Gerard moving away to give him room as Mikey starts fucking into him, no rhythm to it now, long, hard strokes that hit Pete's prostate over and over, making his dick twitch.

"Mikey, Mikey," he gets out, lips dry, tongue too heavy in his mouth.

He feels it when Mikey comes, feels Mikey's dick jerk inside his ass and the way Mikey holds on too tightly again. He also hears it when Mikey says Gerard's name through gritted teeth, is too exhausted to make much of it. When Mikey's finally spent, he slumps forward on Pete, both of them covered in sweat. Pete's arms give out from under him then and they collapse in a heap of arms and legs. At some point Mikey's dick slips out of Pete's ass and Pete finally manages to roll out from under Mikey, breath still coming a little too fast.

Vaguely, he notices Gerard moving between them and then his lips are on Pete's, a fleeting kiss before he leans closer to Mikey. He gets the condom off of Mikey's dick, ties it up and carelessly throws it aside. Gerard's saying something and Mikey's listening, but Pete's too gone to be able to pay attention. He lets this go too, there will be time for serious thoughts later. He zones out a little and drifts off in that haze after orgasm where his thoughts are temporarily subdued and unimportant.

Turning his head aside he can see the curtains aren't quite closed and let in a view of the sky. There's a few stars out there but it's mostly cloudy, so they're hazy at best. There's a metaphor in there somewhere, Pete's hazy, the stars are hazy, but he doesn't bother to hold onto it. Not everything is always a line waiting to be turned into a new song. Pete stretches his feet a bit, feels the muscles in his calves, his ass protest. It's the good kind of pain though, the one that makes the orgasm even better after.

He closes his eyes for a while, listens to his heartbeat slow down. He realizes that Gerard and Mikey aren't talking anymore and turns his head to see what they're doing.

Next to him, Gerard's spread out on his back, almost as if he is on display, eyes closed, stray strands of hair hanging in his face. Mikey's rolled into his side, like that's his rightful place to be, hand wrapped around Gerard's dick, jerking him off in a fast, even rhythm. For the briefest second Pete gets the overwhelming feeling again that he's absolutely not allowed to see this and some base instinct in his brain tells him to leave, leave, leave.

But then he remembers that it's okay, that he gets to watch this if he wants to. He still feels like an intruder, because Gerard and Mikey are intimate in a way that Pete can't quite put words to. It's not in how they talk to each other, more in the way that their bodies respond to each other. It's a familiarity that comes from spending years together, when body language is so attuned to that of the other person it's hard not to see it. 

Pete watches the way Mikey twists his hand, smearing precome over his fingers as he moves it over the head of Gerard's dick. Before he can give himself enough time to think about it, Pete's reaching out too, trailing his fingers over Gerard's dick where Mikey isn't touching it. Gerard makes a noise, something between a moan and a sigh, and his hips move up into their hands. Even after everything they've done tonight, Pete looks at Mikey to make sure this is okay, a strange sort of compulsion he can't shake. Mikey only tilts his head, barest hint of a smile on his face before he moves around, scoots down the bed.

Gerard protests when Mikey lets go of his dick but Pete understands what Mikey's doing, mirrors Mikey's movements until they're both lined up right. They lean in at the same time, Mikey's mouth wrapping around one side of Gerard's dick and Pete meeting him on the other. It's messy and ungraceful, their spit mixing and sliding down the length of Gerard's dick. Pete licks at the skin he can reach, tongue slipping over Gerard's dick, touching Mikey's tongue, his stretched-open lips. Mikey hums when Pete moves up to suck the head in his mouth, his tongue sliding over the underside of Pete's bottom lip. 

There's no easy or elegant way to do this, but it's not what they're aiming for anyway. Pete tries his best not to bump Mikey's head with his chin as he licks at the spot right below the ridge, the one that makes Gerard moan louder. Pete moves away a bit because he wants to see Gerard's face, the way this gets to him. Their eyes meet and Pete sees another person now, a part of Gerard that's tucked away carefully any other time. It has a strong resemblance to that Gerard from years ago, naked and sleeping off another vodka binge. The memory is so strong Pete almost thinks he can smell the ratty couch again, the old blanket.

The look on Gerard's face is open and unguarded, but he meets Pete's gaze without wavering. His chest rises rapidly up and down and Pete can feel his hips shift, still hear the noises Mikey makes as he sucks him off. Pete can feel his own dick twitch in response to it, but it's far away. He looks at Gerard and he remembers who they used to be, who Gerard used to be, and a night that has the same ratty couch smell, only it had been a hotel room then, years later.

"Pete."

Pete's gaze snaps back to Gerard, who licks his lips now, almost there at the edge, Pete can see it. But there's also a hard look in his eyes, like he knows what happened. Like it happens to him too. He feels Mikey's hand on his arm and when he turns, Mikey kisses him, open mouth, a simple press of lips to lips. Pete can taste Gerard on him and it's enough to get him back to the here and now, out of his head. He slides a hand to the back of Mikey's neck, slips his tongue into his mouth, running it over Mikey's tongue. This too is almost like old times, bittersweet in a way that Pete recognizes. Gerard's hand wraps around his and they link fingers for a brief moment. 

It's Pete who breaks the kiss. He moves away and then leans back down, sucks Gerard's dick into his mouth as far as he can take it. Mikey's there a second later, licking at Gerard's balls, cheek brushing against Pete's. They're both faster now, a little more sloppy. Intent. Gerard hasn't let go of Pete's hand, holding it so tightly Pete feels the pain down to his toes. Gerard's palm is sweaty against Pete's and he's shaking a little, soft little moans that get more and more broken.

Pete almost doesn't hear it when Gerard says his name, but when he does he moves down as far as he can, sucking hard. He senses it more than he sees it, when Gerard reaches for Mikey's head, pulls him off by his hair. Mikey makes a noise and Pete immediately moves off, trying to figure out what's going on. There's an inscrutable look on Mikey's face as he stares at Gerard. Pete's not quite sure what he's supposed to do, he's not even sure what's going on.

Then the moment passes and Mikey moves forward fast, his mouth crashing against Gerard's in a bruising kiss. It's not an easy kiss, not by far, more anger and something that's definitely not anger. Gerard responds just as forcefully and Pete looks at them and knows that this is where it stops, this is how far he can get. Gerard squeezes Pete's hand once, opens his eyes to look at Pete before he lets go, wraps both hands in Mikey's hair, eyes sliding closed again.

Pete puts his hand around Gerard's dick again, watches as his hips twitch up automatically and leans back down, takes him in all the way until his dick hits the back of Pete's throat. He chokes a little and moves off, sets a rhythm, fast and hard, spit trailing over his hand every time his lips touch his fingers. He tries not to think, concentrates on the feel of Gerard's dick on his tongue, the motion of his head bopping up and down, ears filled with the soft noises of them kissing, still as insistently as before.

For a fraction of a second Gerard goes completely still and Pete barely has time to move off, before Gerard's coming, sticky, wet, all over Pete's hand. He keeps stroking him, with slower, even movements, watches the come stick to his fingers in white streaks.

This time it's Mikey who says his name, softly into the silence split into even parts by Gerard's harsh breathing.

Pete realizes he's still holding Gerard's now soft dick. He pulls his hand away and wipes it on the sheets, crawls back up the bed. Before he has any chance to settle in, Mikey's tugging at his shoulder and then they're kissing again. Pete still has the bitter taste of Gerard's come in his mouth and Mikey licks it away, a gentle kiss that is nothing like the one he shared with Gerard before. Still, Pete can't stop kissing back, wanting more, but Gerard pulls him away, down, kissing him as well. In his head Pete can't help comparing the two, how the shape of Gerard's mouth is different than Mikey's, how his kisses are surer, harder. 

He pulls away feeling a little dazed. They look at each other and Pete's almost sure his whole face spells out What now? Almost as if in answer, Mikey yawns and simply turns on his side, back pressed to Gerard's arm. He mumbles, "Night," and that's that. Pete wipes his hand on the sheets and then settles in on Gerard's other side, trying to find a comfortable sleeping position. He pulls part of the comforter over his body, staring up at the dark ceiling.

Finally, Pete says, "Night." There's a low sound from Mikey's side and then Gerard's hand appears in front of his face. He pets Pete's hair and it's almost as if he's about to say something but then he seems to think better of it.

"Okay," Gerard says, and it could mean any number of things, but Pete refuses to think about them.

He has a hard time falling asleep, more so than usual. He listens to Gerard and Mikey breathe and he can tell they're both not sleeping either. It's oddly comforting, in a way.

In the end he falls asleep after all, still staring up at the fractured hotel room ceiling.

*

When he wakes up again, pale morning light is already filtering through the shabby curtains of the hotel room. Pete's tangled up uncomfortably in the blankets, and tries to wriggle free but ends up only pulling them tighter across his lower body. He makes an irritated noise and rolls to the side, away from the edge of the bed and comes face to face with Gerard.

Gerard's looking at him, blinking sleepily.

"Morning," Gerard mumbles, lips chapped in the middle. Pete has the urge to lean in and kiss him.

"Morning," he says eventually, after way too long.

"How are you doing?" Gerard asks him and under all the sleepiness there's an alert look to his eyes.

Pete yawns and rubs at his eyes. "A little sore. But good."

Gerard smiles, relief clearly written all over his face. He turns away from Pete, staring up at the ceiling. After a moment Pete does the same. They lie like that in companionable silence for a while, as the sun sneaks up on the bed, turning the curtains into a brighter beige, shade by shade.

Pete listens to Mikey's even breaths as he sleeps, curled against Gerard's side.

"Gerard, I--I wanted to ask. Why are you doing this?“ It's probably a bit late for that question, way too fucking late now. And it's not even the important one, not the one Pete should be asking. But this is as close to the honest truth as he can get right now. Maybe there will be a time, a place, later, to ask the other question.

Why me?

Gerard is silent for a very long time. Pete can hear him shuffle his feet about a bit, so he knows he hasn't fallen back asleep. He waits.

Then Gerard says, very quietly, "I thought that maybe you could. That when you did this, with us," and he stutters out a shaky breath. "Maybe that would make it less bad. Less this," and Pete watches his hand wrap around Mikey's hair automatically, as if he doesn't even notice he's doing it.

Pete thinks he's probably expected to say something but his mind is blank. Maybe there isn't anything to say. He rolls over on his other side, scoots back so his shoulder touches Gerard's arm. And he pretends he's falling back asleep. After a while he falls asleep pretending even sleep breaths, trying hard not to think anything at all.

*

The morning after is not as awkward as Pete imagined it would be. He wakes up again when he needs to pee, sneaks out of the bed and quietly locks the bathroom door behind himself. For a long time after he's washed his hands he stands there, staring at himself in the mirror. He wonders if he should look different now and feels silly the moment he thinks it. In the end he splashes some cold water on his face and sneaks back out into the bedroom.

When he comes back in, Gerard's sitting against the headboard in his t-shirt and sweatpants from last night, pencil in hand. He's in the middle of drawing something that Pete can't make out from the door. His hair is tucked behind his ears and Pete feels strangely fond of him for that. Mikey's still asleep next to him, completely naked and tangled in the blankets in a way that looks like he's trying to hide from the dawn outside. It reminds Pete of that time he walked in on them on the bus, except that then Mikey was dressed and Pete hadn't known about them the way he does now. 

It feels like it happened years ago.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to wake you," he says as quietly as possible when Gerard looks up and puts his pad down.

"Don't worry about it, I was awake anyway."

Pete shuffles closer to the bed. A glance at the pad shows a sleeping person's back. It's clearly Mikey's, but Pete's pretty sure that most people wouldn't recognize that. The drawing is strangely intense, almost like the pencil-drawn Mikey is going to take a sleep breath too, nestle deeper into the blankets like the real Mikey, lying only a foot away.

"I gotta...go," Pete says lamely and then belatedly points over his shoulder to the door. "Patrick's going to kill me if I miss bus call like last week."

Gerard nods emphatically and says, "Sure, yeah."

Pete starts searching for his clothes and finds them mostly on Mikey's side of the bed, strewn all over the floor. He concentrates on getting dressed to the sound of Gerard's pencil scratching over the paper and Mikey making the occasional noise in his sleep. He's trying to get his socks on, alternately standing on one foot, then the other, when Gerard says, "About earlier, when we, uh, talked?"

Looking up, Pete can see that Gerard's intently staring at his sketch pad, but he's not drawing. Pete wobbles a bit on his foot, but gets the sock the rest of the way on. "Don't worry about it. Seriously." Gerard's still for a little longer then he starts drawing again.

He looks for his shoes, before he remembers that he left them by the door, neatly lined up against the wall. Pete moves around the bed and awkwardly stands there for a moment, wondering what the right thing to do is. Should he kiss Gerard goodbye? Shake his hand or something equally stupid, thanks for the fantastic night, say hi to your brother for me?

In the end he decides to go with, "I'm going now. I'll see you guys later?" Question dangling in the room between them.

Gerard looks up at him and smiles this tiny, barely there smile. "Yeah. See you later, Pete."

It takes Pete a tremendous effort to slowly walk to the door, pick up his shoes and leave. Once he's safely outside he jogs back to the elevators and waits for one to take him to his floor.

He tells Patrick he fell asleep during the Ways' Zombie Marathon and Patrick laughs at him, but lets him shower longer anyway. They're late for bus call and Pete receives a serious talking to from the bus driver and immediately crawls into his bunk once the bus starts rolling. He puts on his iPod, sets the music to the loudest setting he can bear and spends the rest of the drive lying in his bunk that way, staring up at the scratched wood of the bunk above him.

*

The funny thing is that they don't speak about it later. There's no talk about what happened, anyway, because the tour seems to fall under some sort of bad spell.

First Pete's bass stops working during a show and the spare one's still not fixed up, busted three shows ago, so Pete spends half of Sugar, We're Going Down simultaneously tuning his bass and trying to play anyway. Two nights after that, MCR's bus breaks down in the middle of a mostly deserted stretch of highway and they have to move on without them. The band misses one show because they don't get there in time and Fall Out Boy plays a longer set than expected. Then Gabe gets food poisoning and Patrick and Pete have an epic fight at the end of which Patrick throws a water bottle at Pete, hitting him right under the eye. Pete walks around with a black eye for the rest of the week.

"I think we're cursed," Bob says matter of factly to Pete at a truck stop somewhere in Nebraska and everyone within earshot heartily agrees.

It's only two weeks later that things finally start quieting down, falling back into the usual tour rhythm of too little sleep, too much bad food and not enough clean clothes. And it's only then that Pete realizes, in one of those embarrassingly startling moments, that they never talked. It comes to him at the most inconvenient moment, of course, up on stage during a song and he fumbles one chord, nothing the crowd hears, but Patrick gives him a sideways look that Pete shrugs off.

As he turns back to play to Andy, who's so into his drumming he doesn't even look at him, Pete realizes they never actually talked about after. Was it supposed to be a one time thing? Or would they be doing this again, Mikey, Gerard and him? And more importantly, was he allowed to ask? Talk about it with them? Or was it some kind of weird Fight Club thing where all eight rules were "Don't ever mention it"?

Pete spends the entire evening after the show thinking it over and over and decides he'll have to talk to Gerard, see how the situation plays out. Where they stand.

In the end Gerard beats him to it.

*

It's early afternoon at another truck stop, somewhere in the middle of nowhere.

Gerard passes by Pete right before bus call, seemingly appearing out of thin air. "We need to talk," he says, "There's an IHOP at the next venue, I'll wait for you."

Pete barely has time to say, "Yeah. Okay," before Gerard's walked past him and disappeared around the end of the bus.

"What the hell was that about?" Joe says from behind Pete, holding a sandwich in one hand, a coke in the other, curious look on his face.

Pete shrugs it off and smiles. "How the hell should I know? He probably wants to discuss singing techniques."

"With you?" Joe looks doubtful and Pete shrugs again. "Tell me about it. That's Gerard Way for you."

That makes Joe smile. He takes a bite from his sandwich and with his mouth half full offers, "He's a weird fucker, but I really like him anyway."

"Me too," Pete says distractedly and turns to look at the spot where Gerard disappeared around the corner.

"Sorry, I'm late," Pete says by way of greeting as he slides into the booth. He immediately feels transported back to some old 60s movie or the diner from Back to the Future. The table tops are sticky, the benches make squelching noises if you so much as breathe. A couple of booths behind Gerard two boys are drinking milkshakes together and one of them keeps looking over at Pete like he's that close to figuring out who he is. Pete slides a bit to the left so he's blocked out by Gerard.

Gerard has a plate of fries in front of him. There's a smiley face on top of them made of ketchup with big mayonnaise eyes.

"So. You wanted to talk?" Pete offers slowly, carefully. For once Pete's not going to stick his foot squarely in his mouth by assuming something.

"Yeah. I think you know what this is about anyway." Gerard doesn't meet Pete's eyes, picks up a fry and spreads one of the mayonnaise eyes sideways, giving it a grotesque new shape.

"Unless you and Mikey have recently had sex with anyone else, then yeah, I know what this is about." Gerard's head snaps up, eyes flashing, but before he can get angry a waitress appears next to their table.

"What can I bring you, honey?" She addresses Pete. He looks at her, strawberry blond hair, dirty apron over blue jeans and a striped shirt. A walking cliche.

"I'll have the same as him." Pete points at Gerard's plate, carefully avoiding looking at Gerard himself in the process. He's not really hungry, but this is probably the fastest way to get rid of her.

"Smiley fries, great. Anything to drink?" She even has a little pad to write on. Pete notes her bitten down nails, wondering if it's a habit she's trying hard to break.

Pete stares at her and politely declines. The waitress seems determined though and turns to Gerard. "What about you? Sure you don't want anything to drink with that?"

Gerard looks at her blankly, not even seeing her at all, then he shakes his head. The waitress' face falls and it's clear from her demeanor that she thinks Gerard is cute. Pete smiles at her as she turns around to leave and she smiles back at him, not quite meaning it.

When she's gone they're silent, uncomfortably not looking at each other. Pete glances outside to the street, the gas station a little ways ahead of the parking lot where the buses are parked next to the venue.

"You have every right to be angry and I'm sorry," Gerard eventually breaks the silence and Pete has to think for a moment before he understands that Gerard's probably referring to his poor attempt at a joke earlier.

"No, that's not--I'm not angry. I just don't know where we're standing. And you're not exactly talkative." Pete shrugs, feels a little relieved that he finally got it out there.

"I'm sorry," Gerard says again and Pete's not quite sure why he keeps apologizing, like he's trying to soften a blow he hasn't dealt out yet. "I'm not sure where to sta--"

"Excuse me?" someone interrupts before Gerard can finish the sentence. Pete looks up and only barely manages to hold the irritated sigh in. It's the two boys from a few tables over. He carefully schools his face into a friendly smile. It's really not their fault they're interrupting at the worst possible moment in history.

The boys look at them nervously, the one who spoke staring at them with wide eyes while the other one almost hides behind him.

"Yeah?" Pete says, trying his very best to seem open and inviting.

"We were wondering, uhm." The boy looks back at his friend who smiles encouragingly at him. "We were wondering if you are Pete Wentz?"

"From Fall Out Boy," adds the other one and blushes when Pete looks at him.

"He is," Gerard offers and it's almost comical when both the boys turn towards him at the same time. Pete watches the recognition dawn on their faces. He tries to imagine how he would have felt if he'd met two singers he liked at his local diner when he was younger. He's pretty sure he probably wouldn't have approached them. Not ever.

"You guys want autographs?" Gerard asks them now and produces a sharpie from somewhere out of his hoodie. The boys nod vigorously and this time Pete's smile is a little more real than before. He watches as Gerard scribbles his name on two napkins, drawing two big smiley faces on each one. Then he adds zombie stitches to the heads, explaining how much cooler they are that way. He passes pen and napkins over to Pete who asks, "So for whom are these?" 

The boys look at him blankly.

"What are your names?" Pete clarifies and the bold one who spoke first says, "Paul," watching proudly as Pete scribbles For Paul on one of the napkins.

Pete looks up at the other one who says, "I'm Frank." As Pete writes For Frank he hears Gerard say, "Hey, I have a really good friend who's called Frank too."

"I know," Frank says and when Pete looks up at that he can see him blushing. Gerard laughs and says, "Right, right. Sometimes I forget that everyone else knows Frankie too."

That makes the boys laugh and Pete watches as Gerard hands them their napkins and talks to them about the music. It's only now that Pete notices how tired Gerard looks, despite the excited smile that's threatening to split his face right in two. Pete feels incredibly protective of him in that moment, never mind that Gerard's older than him and will probably do fine on his own. His gaze trails to Gerard's plate of fries and he reaches for one, smearing the nose and the other eye together. He's never liked ketchup or mayonnaise on their own very much, only ever eats them together.

"Thanks again," Paul is saying now and Pete nods at them, realizing he's missed most of the conversation. He watches them go, excitedly whispering to each other long before they're out of ear shot. Outside the diner they start running and Pete can't help but laugh.

"That was nice," Gerard says and Pete sobers up a little and nods. "Really bad timing though." Gerard smiles at that, a bit sad maybe or maybe that's only Pete's imagination.

"Now about what you said." Gerard leans forward on the table a little and Pete automatically leans in too.

The waitress neatly interrupts them again, sliding a plate of fries with a smiley face on the table. "There you go," she says and disappears.

"I'm starting to feel like maybe we should have chosen a different place to talk about this," Gerard says slowly and Pete kind of has to agree, especially since he can see Brian Schechter push through the door of the IHOP, looking around searchingly before he spots them.

"Brian's coming over," Pete says and Gerard turns around, watches Brian approach, defeated look on his face.

"Gerard? Sorry to interrupt. Hey, Pete." Pete nods at Brian, pretty certain that this is the end of their attempt at a conversation. He leans back, folds his arms.

Sure enough, Brian turns back to Gerard and says, "Listen, I talked to Ray again and he has an idea how we can get the intro to sound better. He sent me to get you so we could practice it again."

"Give me five minutes," Gerard says, quickly glancing at Pete then back at Brian, who looks taken aback, like he didn't even expect Gerard to say no.

Pete feels a little sorry for him, Brian probably hasn't had a proper break for weeks, he certainly looks like it. So he says, "Listen, Gerard, we'll talk later."

Gerard looks up at him sharply and Pete knows as well as Gerard does what happened the last time when they moved this talk to later. Eventually though Gerard sighs and Pete can almost see when the responsible lead singer part of him takes over. "Yeah, okay. Hold on a second." He slides out of the booth and puts a few crumpled bills on the table.

He looks almost sheepish, when he says, "Sorry, but I don't have enough to--" Pete waves it off and Gerard nods. "We'll talk later?" 

"Yeah," Pete says and Gerard nods again.

"Okay then, let's go," Gerard says to Brian, who politely pretends he didn't listen to their conversation. Gerard easily slings an arm over his shoulder and Brian says, "See you around, Pete," before they walk out of the diner.

Pete stays behind with Gerard's half-eaten plate of fries, the only intact part of its smiley face a big ketchupy grin. After a few moments he gets up too, tosses enough money on top of Gerard's on the table and leaves as well.

*

The roar of the crowd in the arena is deafening and Pete watches as Gabe bounces around on the stage. Even here, a little ways off from the speakers, everything is still incredibly loud. He has to dodge out of the way a few times as techs rush past him, carrying equipment, picks and microphones. 

Pete watches as they work, nodding along to the music, so he almost has a heart attack when a hand lands on his shoulder, squeezing. He whirls around and is relieved when he can make out Gerard in the half-darkness, not some ninja serial killer.

"What are you doing here?" he mouths but Gerard shakes his head to tell him he can't hear. He jerks his thumb over his shoulder and makes a complicated hand gesture that's probably supposed to mean Follow me. Pete does.

They find a semi-quiet corner, but Gerard still has to lean in for Pete to properly hear him.

"Listen," he starts, then hesitates for a moment before he goes on. "We can't do this anymore. The--what happened that night. It has to be a one time thing." He pauses again giving room for protest, a reaction, something. Pete nods and waits for the rest. After a moment, music blaring around them, Gerard leans a little closer to Pete's ear again and this time his lips almost touch Pete's skin.

"It's too much of a risk if there's three of us. To be honest with you, it's too much of a risk when there's just two. But I--we..." He takes a deep breath and Pete can hear how much it costs Gerard to speak about this, when he usually doesn't talk about it, keeping it between himself and Mikey. They were never prepared to let a third person in. No matter how much they thought it had been well planned, Pete suddenly and very clearly sees that it had been a mistake nonetheless.

Gerard doesn't seem to notice Pete has gone still, struck with realization. He keeps talking, like something finally came loose, almost as if he's confessing.

"I don't think in the long run it would have worked out anyway. I don't even know how Mikey and me, how we'll, uh. Work out. We've been together all these years even before we...And sharing that with you was different, I don't think we were ready for it. I don't think we ever would have been, but it's a mistake we made and now we have to fix it and Pete, I'm sorry but you have to--"

Pete pulls away before Gerard can finish that sentence, ignores the way his heart hurts from that one word, mistake. He wraps his hands around Gerard's upper arms and looks at him closely. Then he leans in to Gerard, and says right in his ear, "It's okay, Gerard. I won't tell anyone. I swear on everything I care about."

When he pulls away, Gerard's face is carefully blank, but there's something in the way he looks at Pete. It's the same look Andy sometimes has when he knows Pete's about to yell at him for an incredibly stupid reason. It's a look that says I know what's going to come and I won't believe a word of it. Pete's not really sure if that's what Gerard is thinking but he can't think of a way to make it any clearer that he won't talk. This is not a secret after all, it's more than that, and Pete absently wonders if there's a word for it. But Mikey's still one of his best friends and he would trust him and Gerard with his life. He's not about to tell anyone anything.

Gerard still looks at him, perfectly schooled face and now Pete's almost certain he can see doubt there. Maybe he's being paranoid, maybe not. Before he can tell Gerard to stop worrying, a tech pats him on the back and signals him that he only has five more minutes before they go on stage, telling Pete to follow him to the backstage room.

He nods at Gerard, mouths, "Are we okay?" at him.

Without hesitation Gerard nods back.

Pete leaves him standing there, wondering whether this is it. Maybe that's how easy it is: Gerard says it's over, Pete says okay and that's that. He shoves away all the feelings of regret, anger and sadness. A part, a small part of him, admittedly, had been hoping for there to be more. But the rest of Pete hadn't been that naive and that small rational voice in his head tells him, "It's for the best."

"For the best," he mumbles under his breath.

"I'm sorry?" The tech turns around and Pete waves him off.

"Nothing," he says. "Nothing."

*

"Gerard's stalking you again," Andy points out as they stand in front of the entrance to their bus, discussing that night's set list. Pete turns around and sure enough, there's Gerard a little ways off, talking to Frank, but very obviously staring straight at them. At Pete.

"What the hell did you do to him, Pete, seriously. I've rarely seen him this worked up over something that isn't his music." Patrick looks at Pete rather than Gerard and Pete meets his eyes squarely, hoping that'll make Patrick drop the whole thing.

"I didn't do anything," he says, eyes never leaving Patrick's. "I'll talk to him later though, okay?" He doesn't need Patrick's approval on that, they both know it, but Pete knows that saying something like that will ease Patrick's mind. And sure enough, Patrick nods, frown disappearing from his forehead. "Yeah, okay," he says and smiles.

"So, about the encore, I think we should include Sixteen Candles," Joe finally says and the conversation returns to the set list.

*

Later, after the show is over, Pete and Patrick get a beer and sit in the grass, backs against the big bus tires, still warm from the afternoon's sun. It has cooled down enough outside to be comfortable and Pete's glad for the little time outside, doing absolutely nothing before they're crowded back onto the bus again. The longer they are on tour, the more he hates the times when they have to get back on that bus, stuck there for hours, the only fresh air the one that comes in through the windows. It makes Pete uncomfortable and it gives him too much time to think.

"Hey, so you wanna tell me what's really up with you and Gerard?" Patrick takes a swig from his bottle, looking at Pete curiously.

"What do you mean?" Pete tries for oblivious but knows it will fall completely flat. Patrick knows him too well, so it's no surprise when Patrick laughs softly.

"Seriously, Pete. Did you guys get into a fight or something?"

Pete shrugs and toys with the label of the bottle, ripping the corner a little. "I guess it's one of those weird tour tension things. Remember we had that too back in the day?"

Patrick snorts. "Did you just refer to last year as 'back in the day'?" Patrick makes exaggerated air quotes and shakes his head.

"Possibly. But you know what I mean, right? We had a fight over something stupid and now we're, I don't know. Being weird, I guess. It'll pass."

Patrick still looks a little doubtful but he nods, wiping away a stray water drop from the neck of his bottle. "You should probably tell that to Gerard too, because he's lurking over there again and he keeps staring at us."

Pete looks up and he immediately sees Gerard, their eyes meeting across the parking lot. Pete is up and off the ground before he can even think about it. He hears Patrick say his name and shoves his bottle at him, stalking across the grass separating him from Gerard.

He can see Gerard shift uncomfortably, but at least he's not foolish enough to walk away. Pete's pretty sure he'd completely lose it if Gerard did.

When he reaches Gerard, he grabs his upper arm, pulls him around a corner. There's really no reason to give Patrick more cause for speculation.

"Okay, listen up, Gerard." Pete's voice is low and Gerard nervously looks to the side. "You have got to stop following me like that. People are starting to notice and it's not gonna help either your or Mikey's case a lot."

"Wait, my or Mikey's case? Pete this is just as much about you as--"

"Oh, now you want to include me?" 

Gerard snaps his mouth shut, brows furrowed angrily. Pete takes a deep breath, and steps back a little to give Gerard more room. He balls his hands to fists at his sides and orders his thoughts. This one has to count because Pete's really not sure how much longer he can take Gerard's distrust. It hurts in more ways than one.

He meets Gerard's eyes squarely and waits for him to look back, to swallow his anger enough so that Pete can be sure he's listening.

"I'm not gonna tell anyone, Gerard. I won't tell Andy, I won't tell Joe and I certainly won't tell Patrick. You made me promise and I will keep that promise until I fucking keel over and die. I love Mikey and I love you and--" Pete swallows, tries to get past how close the words hit to home. "Even if you went around tomorrow and told everyone I was a big homophobe, I wouldn't say a word."

"No one's saying that," Gerard says quietly, but Pete impatiently waves his hand.

"You know what I mean. I. Will not. Tell. Anyone." He enunciates every word clearly, to make sure that they reach Gerard, that he fucking understands.

Gerard sighs and when he opens his mouth Pete already knows what he will say. "I--Pete there's no guarantee. Maybe it'll slip out in a conversation or maybe you can't bear it and confess it to Patrick or--"

Pete's so angry he can't properly form any words so he does the only thing he can: he turns around and walks away from Gerard. He wills himself not to run, but it's a close thing, especially when Gerard calls after him, voice carrying over the parking lot.

He passes by Patrick who gives him a concerned look and just keeps walking along the side of the street until his anger subsides a little.

*

Pete's sitting in his bus at the little kitchen table, staring down at his Sidekick. It's ringing incessantly, the vibrating making it slowly slide over the table. It goes brr brr brr and moves a little each time. Pete wonders if he should pick up or not. The display reads Mikey Calling and it's not that he doesn't want to talk to Mikey, on the contrary, whenever he's in trouble Mikey's usually one of the first people he calls. Mikey always knows what to say and has given Pete a reality check on more than one occasion. But they've never been in a situation like this before, where Pete felt like he couldn't talk to Mikey about his problem. Even after they'd broken up Pete could still call Mikey and tell him about his broken heart, about how he'd felt.

Eventually Pete picks up the phone.

"Yeah?"

"Hey, Pete." Mikey's voice has a staticky, hollow sound to it. It reminds Pete how much he hates phone calls when he could be talking to the other person face to face.

"So, what's up?" he offers, giving Mikey enough room to make this conversation whatever he wants it to be.

On the other end Mikey shuffles around a bit, a rustling sound that makes Pete think Mikey's lying in his bunk or something. "Gerard told me about the conversation you guys had."

"Unsurprisingly." And there's so much bitterness in Pete's voice he didn't even mean to show, but his guard is always down around Mikey.

"I'm--look, I'm sorry for the things he said. It's not easy. He's worried. He's scared out of his mind that there's someone else who knows."

Pete nods, forgetting that Mikey can't really see it, and adds, "Yeah, I know that, Mikes. But I'm not anyone. I'm your friend."

"I know, Pete, I know that. It's just hard to put your trust in someone else who doesn't have anything to lose in this, you know?"

Pete blinks at the dark landscape moving by outside, not quite sure if he heard Mikey right.

"Pete?" Mikey's tinny, far away voice sounds worried.

"Are you saying," Pete finally says, slowly, "Are you telling me that you're both not trusting me to keep my fucking mouth shut." 

There is dead silence on the other end, then Mikey says quietly, "It's not that I don't trust you, Pete. All I'm saying is that it's difficult knowing that you're in on this and that something could slip out."

"But it won't!" Pete yells into the phone, suddenly so blindingly angry that he has to get up and move or he's going to lose it completely. From the bunks someone curses rudely at him to shut up, but a second later it's silent again. Pete ignores it, waits for Mikey to says something.

"You don't know that," and Mikey's voice breaks a bit, before he adds, quieter, "You don't know that, Pete."

But the thing is, Pete knows, he knows like he's never known anything before in his life. And it sounds melodramatic, like something out of a cheesy movie, but Pete knows it's true. He won't tell. He's apparently not able to convey that to either Mikey or Gerard. And it hurts that Mikey doesn't have the same unshakable trust in Pete that Pete has in Mikey, hurts a lot more than Pete expected it to. 

He realizes that neither of them has said anything for a while, but he can hear Mikey still breathing down the line, steady and even. Normal.

"Look," Pete finally says, "There's no way I can prove to you that I'll keep this a secret, so I--I'm just gonna," and he disconnects the call before Mikey can say anything.

He puts the phone carefully down on the table again and stands there for a few minutes, staring at the display, hoping that Mikey will call him back. Call him back and tell him that it's okay, that Mikey trusts him now and, more importantly, that Gerard trusts him too.

When nothing happens, phone lying quietly on the table, Pete sits back down again. He looks out the window, bus moving along the highway at an even pace. He watches night-dark trees flit by, the occasional little town or truck stop. He starts counting the cars that pass them on the other side and loses track of time that way.

After a while he gets up to lie down on the couch, restlessly staring at the ceiling of the bus. He knows he has to do something, anything, to convince Mikey and Gerard that he's not the enemy, that they have no reason not to trust him. 

He loses track of his thoughts, trying to figure out a way to make them believe him.

*

It's a cloudy Wednesday afternoon, when Pete finally knows. They're parked out in front of the day's venue, still a few hours until they need to start working. 

He walks right into the MCR bus, interrupting an animated conversation about who is faster, Roadrunner or Superman. The guys look up at him in surprise when he bursts right into the bus, but Pete doesn't care.

"I need to speak to Gerard," he says and then looks straight at Mikey and adds, "Alone." He sincerely hopes that Mikey will understand, that Pete can't do what he has to with Mikey there making it even harder than it already is. 

There is a stunned silence and then Frank bursts out laughing. Ray and Bob look equally as surprised, even if it's a little hard to tell in Bob's case. Gerard looks slightly uncomfortable and Mikey--Mikey's nodding slowly. When Frank realizes no one else is laughing he abruptly stops, looking at all of them in turn.

"What? Are we letting Wentz jump into our bus like that and then collectively throw us out? Come on." He jumps up from where he'd been perched on the arm of the couch. "This is an act of invasion, we need to fight this out." He throws his fists in the air and jumps up and down a few times, trying to look fierce.

"Frank," Mikey says and Frank takes one look at him and immediately sobers up. "Let's go guys, give them some room."

Bob gets up first, followed by Ray, and they drag Frank out with them, who not so quietly whispers, "What the hell is going on here?"

Mikey walks out after them, but takes one look around at the door and evenly says, "Don't kill each other," before climbing out, door shutting behind him.

Pete turns back to Gerard who has his arms folded protectively in front of him, his whole stance communicating So?

"Okay, here it is." Pete takes a deep breath, stands up a little straighter. "You know when I took the pills. In that parking lot?" 

Gerard nods. "Yeah, I know."

"I tried to commit suicide again, about a year and a half later. I--I took a lot of pills. A lot, Gerard." Pete pauses and swallows hard. "I was feeling like shit because everyone was still treating me like I would break and the medication didn't help anything at all. I felt even more, uh, isolated than before." Pete looks away from Gerard, takes another breath. "I don't remember what set it off in the end, but I got a bottle of tequila, locked myself in a hotel room and took every pill I'd managed to get my hands on."

Gerard blinks a couple of times, eyes wide with a mixture of shock and surprise.

"But how did you--?"

"The maid found me. She made me throw up somehow, I don't know." Pete shrugs. "She beat the living hell out of me afterwards too, told me what a fool I was for letting an innocent woman like her almost see a dead body. I don't remember much after that, but I spent two weeks at my parents' house and then went right back on the road."

"Why are you telling me this?"

Pete looks at Gerard seriously and licks his lips. "Because I've never told anyone else. Not Patrick, not my parents, not any of my exes. I'm telling you because it's the only way I could think of to make you see that I can and will keep what happened between you, me and Mikey a secret. Even if you went straight outside, right now, and told the whole parking lot about what I just told you."

Gerard looks at him silently for a long time. He doesn't make a move to leave, doesn't look like he wants to say anything either.

"I figured if you knew a secret about me that was equally as big, then maybe you'd--" Pete breaks off, unsure whether he should go on or shut the hell up. Gerard looks pretty shocked, standing there, staring at Pete, but finally he seems to snap out of it. He takes a step towards Pete, reaches for his shoulder and stops mid-motion, like he thought better of it. 

"Gerard?" Pete carefully says and Gerard blinks and takes another step towards him. Before Pete can even react, Gerard pulls him into a hug, his arms squeezing the breath out of Pete.

"I'm sorry," he whispers into Pete's ear, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry."

"It's okay," Pete says and hugs Gerard back, slowly patting him on the back. He's not really sure what to do, feeling more awkward than when they'd been naked in bed together.

It's Gerard who pulls back first. There's so much on his face, emotions fighting to gain the upper hand. Pete has to swallow around the lump in his throat. It feels weird, because he never told anyone about that night at the hotel, but now that he has, all the emotions from back then well back up. He doesn't feel any lighter than before, but he doesn't regret having shared it with Gerard either.

"I'm sorry I made you talk about this," Gerard says and he looks so sincere that it makes Pete's heart hurt. "I--I've been an ass, Pete. I'm sorry for not--believing you. I was scared. I still am." Gerard runs a hand through his hair and looks away, out of the window into the parking lot. "You shouldn't have had to tell me that."

"I wanted to," Pete says quietly, putting his hands into the pocket of his hoodie, not quite sure what else to do with them.

"Yeah, but because you had to. Because I made you." Gerard looks pained and then turns around and eventually sits down on the couch, folds his hands in his lap.

Pete hesitates for a moment and then sits next to Gerard. His elbow bumps against Gerard's arm and he purposefully keeps it there, touching.

"You can't feel responsible for everything that happens, Gerard."

"But I did this."

"Takes three to make a threesome," Pete says and then bites his lip when he realizes what he said. Gerard looks at him with big eyes and starts giggling. It breaks out of him and he's trying to hold back, but fails. Before long he's laughing out loud and Pete can't help but join him, both of them laughing now, more out of relief than anything else. 

They slowly calm down and Gerard says, into the forming silence, "It's not really funny."

"No, it isn't," Pete agrees and Gerard nods.

For a while they sit there, saying nothing at all.

"You can tell Mikey. If you want, you know." Pete doesn't look at Gerard when he says it but he's sure that Gerard gets how much this is costing him. "He should know too, I just can't tell him."

"Okay." Gerard fidgets a bit, rubbing his hands together. "Listen, I wish it wasn't like this, you know that, right? Sometimes I wish you and Mikey, that you were still...But I can't change it. I--" he takes a deep breath, "I see what Mikey sees in you now."

Pete swallows and doesn't answer, not trusting his voice to do what it's supposed to. He takes a few calming breaths and waits for the moment to pass. The words are on the tip of his tongue, I wish we were still together, too, but he swallows them down. Saying them out loud would make them real and he knows neither of them want to hear it right now.

After a moment, Pete gets up. Gerard gets up, too, and they look at each other. They move forward at the same time, Pete going for a hug, but Gerard is faster than him, stepping sideways and kissing Pete square on the lips. Pete freezes for a fraction of a second, then lets his arms fall to his sides and kisses Gerard back, slow and lingering.

This time when they step apart it feels final, like they've sealed a deal.

"Are we okay?" Pete asks carefully and Gerard looks serious when he says, "Yes. Yes, we are."

Pete holds his gaze for another moment, then he wills his body to relax, his face to form a smile. "So how about I let your crazy guitarist back inside?"

"I don't know what you're talking about, Ray is a really friendly guy," Gerard says and grins. It doesn't quite reach his eyes but Pete tries to ignore that.

"Okay, then," he says and walks to the door. He hesitates before he opens it, then turns back around to Gerard who's still standing where Pete left him.

"If you ever need a place for, you know. For anything. Give me a call, okay?" They both know that Gerard will never take Pete up on the offer, but Gerard smiles and says, "Yeah, sure," anyway.

When Pete steps out of the bus, the sunlight makes him blink rapidly and there's a warm wind blowing. Gerard's band is nowhere in sight and Pete is incredibly relieved he doesn't have to talk to Mikey right now. He turns left, away from the path leading to his own bus and starts walking, one foot in front of the other.

*

It's almost an hour later when he finally gets back to his own bus. Patrick is sitting on the couch, reading a book and Joe's at the kitchen table, eating cereal. In the back of the bus, Pete can see Andy's arm sticking out of the curtain to his bunk.

Joe looks up when he walks in and mumbles, "Hey, Pete," around a mouthful of cereal.

Patrick looks up and smiles when he sees Pete, putting his book aside.

"Where've you been?"

Pete shrugs. "Talked to Gerard. Went for a walk."

Patrick's smile widens. "You guys talked it out?"

Pete walks to the couch, sits down next to Patrick. "Yeah, I think we did," he says and knows that it's true.

"Great," Joe says, swallowing, "Gerard the stalker was starting to seriously creep me out. He definitely missed his calling as a serial killer."

"Joe!" Patrick tries to sound offended on Gerard's behalf but he ruins the attempt by laughing.

Pete smiles a little and curls up again Patrick's side. "What are you reading?"

"Something about the history of Route 66. A fan gave it to me."

"I wish they'd given you something good to eat instead," Joe says and laughs before he gets back to fishing the last of his cereal out of the milk.

"Yeah, whatever, it's interesting," Patrick says, then turns to Pete. "I almost forgot. Mikey came by earlier. He told me to give you this." Patrick thumbs through the pages of his book until he pulls out a piece of paper, folded once in the middle. He hands it to Pete. "Mikey told me to tell you that he's sorry. Seriously, Pete, what the hell did you guys get in a fight over?"

Pete stares at the folded up piece of paper and then at Patrick, realizing he hasn't answered. "Some small, stupid thing, I told you. But we sorted it out. Stop worrying and go back to your book about highways. I'll go and write you some lyrics now." He gets up and walks through the corridor towards the back of the bus, still carefully holding the piece of paper in his hands.

"Try writing good ones this time, that don't rhyme fuck and duck," Patrick yells after him and Pete hears Andy snort as he passes by the bunks on the way to the back lounge.

Pete closes the door behind himself carefully and sits on one of the couches. He looks at the piece of paper in his hands, then slowly unfolds it.

It's Gerard's drawing of a sleeping Mikey, the one he'd been drawing the morning after. The pencil lines are more pronounced now, there are shadows under Mikey's shoulder blades, black messy hair and hands curled in the comforter. Pete stares at the picture and almost thinks he can see Mikey breathing, can almost hear the noises he makes in his sleep.

After a while he folds the drawing and puts it into the back of his notebook. He takes out a pen and opens a new page. He spends a long time sitting like that, hand hovering over the empty page, looking out of the bus window at the concrete wall of the venue outside. Then he starts writing.

*

Pete's a lot more perceptive than people give him credit for. He sees a lot of things other people try to hide, try to keep to themselves.

And sometimes, Pete just looks the other way.

**Author's Note:**

> The initial idea for this fic was to write Gerard/Mikey/Pete as more than just a PWP. I started it back in July or August last year and got stuck somewhere along the way. For big bang I picked it back up and here we are now with the finished product.
> 
> I never thought this would get finished (or be so long for that matter) and I owe a lot of that, as well as profuse thanks and love, to the wonderful quarterturn, who auditioned this in its first stages and was a big help during the last few months writing this.
> 
> I'd also like to thank my betas sinuous_curve and yan_tan_tether who were both just the right amounts of critical and encouraging. If it weren't for them, this fic would lack a serious amount of commas and proper spelling. All remaining mistakes are my fault not theirs.


End file.
